Forgotten
by ZaKai
Summary: COMPLETE: When Ed shows up unexpectedly after a two year disappearance, Roy tries to help him and learns that there is a darker meaning to the words 'equivalent exchange':Suspense, Psychological, Dark, Divergence, COMPLETE:
1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

This story is not a 'yaoi story', nor is it a 'het story'. Basically it's a **gen story** with **some yaoi and het sexual situations**. While the **focus is on Roy and Ed, they are not a couple**. This is not a romance nor is it about people getting together. If you're looking for something with pairings, this might not be what you're looking for. This is not to say that you still might not enjoy this story, but it isn't focused on anyone getting together.

Also, while this story does have some intimate scenes, those situations are more for plot device than trying to make them hot and smexy. For the most part, **this story is rated R for the following: Horror, Psychological, Dark, Language, Mature situations.**

I have tried to give adequate information on this story, but please note that I'm not going to warn for every little thing that could possibly be offensive as I feel that it would take away from the plot—especially considering the type of story this is.

This is really the type of story I love to write. My first ever fanfiction (Dead Ground—a Gundam Wing fic) was also in this type of genre. While I know this type of story isn't for everyone, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you will enjoy reading it as well.  
—

**Forgotten**

**I**

**Reunion**

—  
Ed stepped out of the inn, shutting the door behind him, and rubbed his gloved hands together as if it would generate more heat. After a moment, he stopped and looked around with a frown. Turning, he stared at the door in confusion, then glanced up at the inn's sign before nodding.

He'd forgotten for a moment, but now he remembered...

Snow and ice crunched under his boots as he stepped heavily onto the sidewalk. Ed sighed, his breath puffing out in a little misty cloud before it dissipated. The day was cold and the snow of the night before was already a dirty sludge piled up at the side of the street from a day's worth of cars driving through it.

Absentmindedly, he pulled his worn, red coat tightly against himself and started walking toward the large military building that was so prominent in Central. He brought his gloved hands up and breathed in them, trying to warm up his face a little before stuffing them into his pockets.

There was a slight, frigid breeze that made his bangs tickle his forehead and cheeks, but he paid no mind to his hair or the air temperature. It was cold—bitterly so—but despite the cold creeping into his clothing and how quickly his exposed face seemed to numb, he didn't mind that much. This cold was natural and made sense. Besides, the bitter, wet weather seemed to harmonize with his inner feelings.

In a way, it felt a little strange being back in Central City. It had been about two years since he'd restored Alphonse's body; and, originally, Ed had believed that he would live happily with his brother for the rest of his life, but that wasn't what was meant to be.

They'd lived together for a time in Rizembool. It had been... good, he supposed—what he remembered of it, in any case. But he'd felt restless and... there was something... Al hadn't wanted him to leave. He'd always tried to make him stay, by saying that he could be everything Ed needed, that he would protect him, but he couldn't...

It soon became apparent to him that Al and Winry were getting close, and that he was somehow... interfering... in their relationship. Al never said so, and firmly denied it whenever Ed brought it up; but Winry... Winry never said anything, but Al had said that she was just jealous of how close they were and not to pay it any mind. Perhaps that was so. Ed thought he remembered her seeming... worried... though he couldn't say he actually remembered her seeming jealous. Sometimes he thought it had been something else... something he couldn't understand. He'd known it was important, but he'd never been able to grab a hold of it...

That was when Ed had decided it was time to go.

He'd traveled for almost a year—most of it was lost in fuzzy memory—but he knew he'd gone from place to place, seeing things he was sure he'd already seen at some point in his life, doing things he'd already done; or, at least, that he vaguely remembered doing before... He'd fixed things with alchemy, and done... _other..._ things, when he was hungry or needed a place to stay...

Then two weeks ago, for some reason he couldn't quite remember, he'd ended up in Central. In all the traveling he'd done since leaving Rizembool, he'd never come to Central. Whether there was a subconscious reason or not, he didn't know. He'd slept on the streets for a couple of days before finding a broken down tavern in the forgotten alleys of Central's slums and getting himself a room by promising to fix it up for room and board.

Ed absentmindedly kicked at a pile of sludge as he trudged slowly toward the building that he'd thought he'd never set foot in again.

Why was he going there?

He didn't know.

Perhaps he wanted to see someone who knew him. Maybe see the face of someone who was familiar and real...

His resignation from the military had been a sudden one. Ed knew he must have left quite a mess for his commanding officer, but at the time he hadn't cared. He'd achieved what he'd set out to do and had decided, along with Al's urging, that he no longer needed the military. Ed had left his pocket watch on his superior's desk without any sort of note or explanation.

He didn't say good-bye to anyone.

Just left.

Ed had thought, at the time, that he'd get a call from his bossy, arrogant superior telling him to get his ass back to Central, but he never had. Maybe it was because the man didn't care about him and had been glad to get rid of such a subordinate as himself; or, perhaps, he'd been hurt and upset with Ed's callous exit from military life. Either way, Ed knew what he'd done had been wrong.

Perhaps he came to central to apologize.

Perhaps…

Ed stopped and stared down at the dirty snow in thought for a moment before continuing on.

Perhaps not.

Without looking, he began crossing the street and when a car honked at him, Ed lifted a hand and made an offensive gesture. He had a right to walk here, and if they didn't like it, that was their problem…

He knew it was rude, but he really didn't care. Being polite was never something he had acquired, and during his time on the road he'd become even more unrefined in his actions toward others. He spent most of his time alone, so what did he care for being civil?

After stepping off the road and back onto the sidewalk, Ed let his gaze run over the large expanse of undisturbed snow that covered the frozen lawn of Central's main military headquarters. In the summer, the grass was a deep green and made a striking contrast to the white building behind it. Now though, with the snow, the building almost seemed to be camouflaged.

As he approached the glass doors of Central Headquarters, Ed glanced at his reflection and frowned. He was a little taller than he had been the last time he'd passed through those doors, but not by much. He'd finally come to accept the fact that he wasn't going to get any taller. He still didn't like it, but he no longer threw fits about it. In fact, he rarely showed much emotion over anything anymore…

As he came closer to the glass, his reflection became clearer. He still wore black, but the leather pants had given way to a softer polyester-cotton type material. The legs of the pants were also looser on him than the leather had been. It didn't last as long, but it was more comfortable and easier to maneuver in.

The downside of it was that if a person looked close enough, they could tell that one of his legs was automail. This was one of the main reasons he had stayed with the leather for so long. He'd always wanted to hide his automail. He'd been ashamed of it, ashamed of why he had it. However, this was also something he no longer really cared about.

He'd grown out of his previous silver lined jacket, but had been lucky enough to find a seamstress who was willing to make him one in trade for services rather than money. Of course, the services she'd wanted didn't involve alchemy...

He didn't mind it.

In fact, he preferred it.

He felt a driving need to be close to other people, to become one with them if only for a short time. It made him feel... whole... in some odd way that he couldn't explain. He always felt as if some part of himself was gone... missing... and it was only by being with another person that he felt close to being whole.

Ed thought that perhaps he should be ashamed of the things he did, but he wasn't. Those feeling just didn't seem to exist in him anymore. The only thing he cared about was not feeling so damn lonely. He hated the loneliness that seemed to constantly be with him; a dark and cold companion that haunted his waking hours like a nightmare...

He still wore the long, red coat with the black flamel on the back. His coat had been altered for him by said seamstress to accommodate what little growth he could claim, but that had been a while ago. Now his clothes held a shabbiness to them that told of long days on the road and of a person who really didn't care much about being presentable.

When he reached the door, Ed pulled it open and walked quickly inside. He didn't like looking at himself, and he tried to avoid reflective things whenever he could. Sometimes when he saw himself, he was shocked and surprised at his appearance. Other times he didn't care. Sometimes he didn't even recognize himself, and sometimes when he looked close enough, he saw himself... his _real_ self looking back at him and he was afraid.

He feared that look because in those eyes was the truth. In those eyes was who he really was. In those golden spheres he saw the golden-yellow that seemed to surround him and engulf him in hopeless despair. It was as if not only he was looking back at himself, but as if all the others were looking at him as well.

Watching.

Waiting.

Ed shook his head and tried to clear it, tried to make the dark thoughts and feelings go away, then absently ran a gloved hand over his hair to dust off the snow that had accumulated there. Finishing with that, Ed tightened his ponytail—he'd ceased wearing his hair in a braid after he'd left Rizembool.

Why? He didn't know. He couldn't remember... but it probably wasn't important anyway.

After three flights of stairs and wandering through the halls, Ed finally asked for directions to the office he was looking for. He knew where it was... really... it was just that _right now_ he couldn't remember. Ed frowned at that. He hated it when that happened. Why was he like this? He didn't know, or perhaps, he couldn't remember. Ed had a vague thought that perhaps Al knew, but...

When he reached the office, Ed looked at the name and rank that was etched into the nameplate on the door and frowned. The man was a colonel? Ed frowned, trying to think. Perhaps he'd already known that, but it just didn't seem right...

For almost five full minutes, he stood there, pondering, desperately wondering why he'd come. But there was no reason... he had no purpose... he was simply there.

Or perhaps he'd had a reason, but forgotten it.

Fully intending on walking away, Ed softly knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Come," came a distracted reply.

_His voice hasn't changed..._ the thought ran through his head, but he pushed it away. What did he care about the man's voice? Opening the door, Ed let himself in and shut it silently behind him.

The colonel was sitting at his desk, completely absorbed in whatever it was he was reading. The mahogany desk was clean with only a telephone, a pen, a picture frame, and a few papers. For some reason that he couldn't explain, Ed found this slightly disturbing, as if the desk shouldn't be cleared off... Instead of interrupting, Ed patently waited in silence.

Finally, with a sigh, the man at the desk grabbed a pen, and signed whatever he was reading. "Nicholson obviously thinks that…" the colonel began as he looked up, but trailed off when he saw who was standing in his office. As the silence stretched on, Ed had a chance to study the man more fully as he was studied in return.

Roy Mustang looked older than he had two years ago. His fine black hair was marred with strands of white, and Ed wondered how long it would take the man to lose the pigment in the rest of his hair. Mustang also looked tired. Dark circles were clearly visible underneath weary obsidian eyes, and Ed wasn't sure if that was from lack of sleep or stress. Perhaps it was both…

The man's chair made a small squeaking noise as he sat back and folded his arms while continuing to quietly study him. Finally, after several minutes of silence, Mustang murmured, "This is a surprise... to say the least. I never thought I'd see _you_ again."

Ed nodded.

He'd thought the same...

"To what do I owe this... honor?" Mustang asked, his voice sounding almost bored, but his eyes radiated...

What?

Excitement?

Amusement?

Good humor?

Anger?

Ed shook his head. "I don't really know... I'm actually not sure what I'm doing here in Central at all..."

The colonel grunted, then asked, "Where's Alphonse?"

"Rizembool," he said shortly. Ed didn't want to talk about Al. They didn't really keep in touch. Oh, once in a while Ed would send a letter or make a phone call, but the calls never lasted long, and Al never sent him reply letters. Perhaps he would if Ed stayed in one place, but he didn't... Talking to his brother was a bit uncomfortable. Al always demanded to know where he was. Sometimes Ed told him, sometimes he didn't. When Ed had left Rizembool, he'd done it rather suddenly, again not telling anyone.

No, Ed was quite happy with the amount of contact he had with Alphonse. It was better this way. He couldn't go back to Rizembool. There was something he needed to find, and for some reason he felt as though Al was stopping him from finding it. What it was that he needed to find, Ed didn't know; or, maybe he did know, but he just couldn't remember...

"I see," was all Mustang said to Ed's response. When he just stood there, the colonel said, "Have a seat," and pointed to one of the couches.

"I'll stand," Ed replied. He didn't plan on being there long. After all, he really had no idea why he was here anyway...

"As stubborn as ever," Mustang mumbled and stood up. "Well, I planned on leaving after this." He pointed at the form he'd just signed. "It's been a long day and I want to go home. If you don't want to talk here, you could walk with me—or not—whichever you'd like."

Ed watched the colonel walk nonchalantly to the coat rack and slip into his heavy black overcoat. Mustang turned around and stared at him for a moment before crossing the room, opening the door, flipping off the light, and shutting the door behind him.

Ed stood alone in the office and looked around. The window let in the cold, gray light of a winter evening that suddenly seemed unnatural and oppressive. A shiver passed unbidden through is body.

Alone.

Alone in a gloomy room that represented his past.

It seemed ironic in a way. Standing where he was, in the muted light, it was difficult to make out much, but he knew it was there. A perfect representation of his memories... and something else... Suddenly, leaving seemed like the most important thing in the world to him.

Ed walked to the door, laid his hand on the handle and lightly rested his forehead against the smooth wood. He could leave this dark office, just open the door and walk out into the lit hallway beyond, but he'd never be able to escape the bleakness in his own mind.

* * *

Roy walked toward the glass doors of Central's main military building and smirked mirthlessly as he saw the figure of Ed approaching him in the glass's reflection. He hadn't known for sure if the boy would follow—though he'd felt pretty confident that he would.

He shook his head, opened the door, and stepped out into the cold. Ed was no boy. At eighteen, Ed was legally a man, and from what Roy had seen in his eyes, Ed was mentally no longer a boy either. The childish impertinence was gone, leaving a very depressed and tired-looking ex-Fullmetal.

Sticking his hands in his coat pockets, Roy started down the sidewalk listening to the pavement salt crunch beneath his boots. Moments later, Ed caught up to him and walked beside him. Roy glanced over at the person he'd thought was out of his life forever and pressed his lips in thought.

At first, he'd been angry—_furious_—that Ed would just leave. No notice, no note, no goodbye... just a lone pocket watch on his desk. It had been quite a shock. Ed needed to get his brother's body back, and that's why he'd become a State Alchemist; but then he'd suddenly left without obtaining his goal. He'd wondered, at the time, why his young subordinate would throw away everything he'd worked so hard for.

Had they found a way to get Alphonse back to normal? Roy didn't think so. He was sure Ed would have told him. Maybe they'd decided it wasn't worth it and they'd try to make the best of their situation... or perhaps the young alchemists had decided that they didn't want anything to do with the State. That wasn't unfathomable, given how much Ed despised the military, and how much Alphonse hated the fact that Ed was sacrificing so much for him.

In any case, Roy had decided that it was Ed's choice and had resolved to let him be. If the teen had wanted to talk to him about leaving then he would have. Instead of dragging the boy back to Central to resign properly, Roy had taken it upon himself to do it for him. There had been quite a bit of paperwork to fill out, and he'd been called into several meetings to explain what had happened to the military's genius child.

Roy was pretty sure Ed had gone to Rizembool and could have told them where to find him, but he didn't. He'd lied and covered for his ex-subordinate, even though the kid hadn't deserved it. Roy glanced over again. Ed was definitely no kid now. He'd grown a bit and was more filled out. He also had the mature look of someone who had seen the world, seen all the ugliness that existed, and had finally come to accept it, or at least come to not let it bother him. Ed had never been able to accept things before; he'd always thought that he could change all the bad in the world.

A childish view.

The Edward Elric who walked beside him had definitely changed.

Neither of them spoke as they walked. Roy had many questions, but he really didn't feel like talking. If Ed wanted to speak, he would. If not, then he wouldn't. So Roy waited.

As they neared his apartment, the sidewalk became icy and slick, and Roy irritably wondered if the owners had ever heard of salting the walk. Suddenly he slipped slightly and a hand reached out and steadied him.

"Thanks," Roy murmured as he awkwardly resumed his footing, then frowned when Ed didn't immediately let go of him. The teen looked up at him with an unreadable gaze, tightened his grip momentarily, then with slow reluctance let go of his sleeve.

* * *

Ed watched absently as Mustang pulled his keys out of his coat pocket and unlocked the deadbolt. The colonel turned the doorknob, walked in, then looked back, making a 'come in' gesture with his hand.

Did he want to go in? Maybe... He wasn't sure. Why was he following the man anyway? He didn't really have anything to say...

Hesitantly, Ed walked into the apartment and Mustang closed the door. The apartment was small, but tidy and well taken care of.

"Hungry?"

Ed shrugged dully. He could eat, but he didn't feel particularly hungry. He had a feeling that his body had decided to stop growing and therefore it would no longer need the amount of food he had eaten when he was younger.

Maybe.

"Delivery sound good?" Mustang asked him, as if surprised not to get an answer to the first question.

"Whatever you want..." he replied vaguely. Ed watched the colonel press his lips together in thought before picking up the phone. _Why am I here?_ he numbly thought again.

* * *

Roy set the box his food had come in on the coffee table and took a drink of his beer. He glanced along the length of the table at the empty bottles. This was his second; Ed was on his fourth.

It was almost depressing, being out-drunk by someone smaller and fourteen years younger. Ed seemed to be holding his liquor quite well, surprisingly enough, though Roy was a bit worried that the teen had only finished about a third of his food.

Roy would have never believed when he woke up this morning that he'd be eating cheap delivery and drinking beer with Edward Elric. It was almost incomprehensible, but at the same time it didn't feel all that awkward.

Actually, it felt like a dream.

It didn't seem real, so why should it be awkward?

He finished off the bottle and reached over to grab another one. He'd given up on only bringing out one bottle at a time for each of them and just brought them all. He opened the bottle and glanced over at Ed who was setting his empty bottle down and eying the full one in Roy's hand. With a sigh, Roy handed it over and got himself a different one.

"Why are you feeding me?" Ed asked, breaking the silence.

Roy shrugged. "I don't get much company."

"That's a stupid excuse," Ed said and took a drink. "No one does anything for free..."

Roy smirked slightly, "Equivalent exchange?"

Ed shook his head, "Just what I found with experience."

"I see..." Roy said.

"So what do you want?" Ed asked.

"What do you mean? You're the one who came to me," he reminded the teen.

"I mean in exchange for feeding me..." Ed said slowly.

Roy shook his head. "I don't expect anything for it." He paused, then said, "Perhaps you could tell me why you're here."

Ed seemed to consider this for a moment, then whispered, "I don't know..." He took a deep swallow from the bottle, then put it on the coffee table before continuing. "I don't know why I do anything anymore. I feel like I'm just..." He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Drifting... from one place to another. Like... a ship with no course, or a leaf in the wind."

Ed dropped his hand and stared forward blankly. "I don't have a purpose. I don't live... I just exist. I do things, but I don't know why I do them. I go places, but I don't know why I do that either. I see people and I think I know them, but I don't... It's like they're not even real... I dream, but then I don't remember and eventually I wonder if it wasn't a dream at all... I go places and it's like I'm a phantom, a ghost that no one sees... invisible."

Ed turned and looked at Roy with wet eyes. "I don't want to be invisible anymore. I want someone to know who I am, but... but I'm not even sure who I am sometimes."

Roy shifted on the couch and said, "Why didn't you go to Rizembool?"

"I can't..." Ed whispered.

Roy frowned. "Is that why you came here?"

"I don't know..." Ed answered, then looked at him for a moment before scooting across the couch to where Roy was sitting. "I really should pay you for dinner... I don't feel right about taking something for nothing."

"Don't worry about it. It's no big deal."

Ed stared at him with bloodshot eyes for a moment, then said, "You look really tired. I can help you relax..." This was followed by Ed laying a hand on Roy's knee.

Roy shook his head and sighed. Perhaps Ed wasn't holding his liquor as well as he'd thought... "Ed..." he began as the teen started sliding the hand up his leg. Roy reached down and grabbed the hand. "Ed... You're drunk."

The teen's face took on a hurt, confused look. "You don't want it...?"

"Ed," Roy said with practiced patience. "That isn't the point. Even if I slept with men—which I don't—I still wouldn't feel right about having sex with you while you were drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Ed protested indignantly, then said, "Besides, being with a man isn't all that much different than being with a woman."

Roy sighed again. "I'm not even going to ask how you know this... It's really none of my business..."

"I'm not drunk," Ed repeated defensively, and put his other hand on Roy's thigh. "You should try it at least once. You never know, you might like it."

When the hand on his thigh began moving toward his groin, Roy grabbed that one as well and realized that he was being put in a rather compromising position. Here he was, on the couch, with an eighteen-year-old male leaning over him and trying to feel him up.

The age and gender were definitely strikes against this. Roy generally didn't like to date anyone under twenty-five, let alone sleep with them; and, of course, he didn't sleep with men. He'd never even considered it. His penis, however, seemed to not take notice of these details. In fact, the newness and forbidden nature of this seemed to turn him on even more.

Damn it.

Dammit all to hell...

"Ed," he tried again, but his protest was weaker this time.

"Stop fighting it," Ed whispered. When he tried to move one of his hands away from Roy's grip, the colonel held tight. "I can tell you want it. You should experiment a little. I promise you'll like it."

When Ed tried again to free himself, Roy reluctantly let him go. This was wrong on so many levels, yet he was allowing it... Ed paused for a moment, looking down into Roy's eyes. Then he felt the hands slide slowly in toward his groin.

Roy breathed in quickly, and exhaled sharply at the stimulation. He hadn't been touched like this in quite a while, and even though the touch was lessened by his pants, it still aroused him like...

Shaking his head as if to clear his mind, Roy again grabbed Ed's wrists and said, "I don't think this is a good idea..." He couldn't let him do this. It just wasn't right.

"Why do you keep trying to stop me?" Ed asked in confusion and Roy suddenly realized that perhaps Ed had never been refused before. Perhaps there was more going on here than he knew, and for some reason he felt a bit frightened.

"Do you do this often? Have sex with people, I mean."

Ed gazed at him with a look that said everything, then looked away, and asked softly, "I don't know. Why?"

"Why are you doing this?" Roy asked, matching Ed's tone. "If you're not drunk, then tell me, why do you want to do this?"

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

What could he say? Of course the touching felt good, but... "Let's not go back to that. It doesn't have to do with any of that."

"Then you _do_ like it." It wasn't a question.

In frustration, Roy growled, "_Yes_, I like it. Okay? It feels good, but..."

"Then why not just let me do this?" Ed interrupted. "I want to... I need to..."

"But _why?_"

Suddenly, Ed looked back at him with a fierce expression, "I don't know! Okay? I don't know!"

"Perhaps you just don't want to know," Roy said and lifted one of his hands to touch Ed's face.

At the caress, Ed looked down, but not before Roy saw tears in his eyes. "Why are you doing that?"

Roy's lips quirked into a humorless grin when he heard his question on Ed's lips. "Doing what?"

"This!" Ed cried and slapped his free hand against the one on his cheek. "Why don't you just treat me like everyone else? Don't you hate me? Don't you want to get back at me for leaving without telling you? Why not just take this one moment to relax and just let me make you feel good?"

"You don't deserve to be treated badly, Ed," Roy said gently.

"Yes, I do," Ed whispered. "I'm... I'm a horrible person..."

"That's bullshit," he growled. This, at least, was something that hadn't changed. Ed had always thought he deserved less, or deserved bad things because of what he'd done. The fact that it wasn't true hadn't changed either.

Ed looked up at him and Roy could see tears shining in the golden eyes. "Don't I? Then why? Why am I here? What is this all for?" Ed grabbed onto Roy's shirt, gave it a hard yank, and stared at him with frightened eyes. "Can you tell me? Do you have the answer? I've searched everywhere, but I don't know what I'm looking for! It's just so lonely here! I feel like I'm being watched all the time and I just can't handle it anymore! I just want this all to _end_!"

A sob broke from him and he buried his head in Roy's chest. Roy pressed his lips together and wrapped his arms around Ed's shaking body. "It's alright..." he soothed.

"Is it? Is it really?" Ed asked softly.

Roy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Ed lifted his head and put his mouth over his. Roy's eyes widened as Ed pushed his tongue into his mouth and gave him a sloppy—yet erotic—kiss.

Pulling away, Ed murmured, "Please... I need this," and reached down to fondle Roy again.

"No," Roy said, more firmly than he felt.

"But..."

"I said 'no'," he repeated, and this time he pushed Ed away. "Look, if I can help you I will, but this is not going to help. I still don't know why you're here, but..." A sigh. "You can stay here if you need to."

"You're giving me a place to stay?" Ed breathed out sounding slightly confused.

"That's right. You can stay here if you need to."

"Whenever I need to?"

Roy's frowned at the strange question. "Yes, you can stay here whenever you need to," he said slowly, wondering what he was agreeing to.

"Do you want me to pay you for—" Ed began, but Roy cut him off.

"No payment is needed, especially not what you were just offering."

"But..."

"No. Absolutely not. If you stay here, you sleep on the couch and we will _not_ be having sex or doing anything close to it. Do you understand?"

* * *

When his alarm clock went off, Roy smacked at it and groaned. He didn't really want to get up... He snuggled deeper into the blankets, trying to avoid the chill in the morning air. It was colder than usual this morning and Roy wondered tiredly if his furnace was broken...

The alarm buzzed again.

Roy grabbed at it to turn it off, but it slipped off the nightstand and fell to the floor. Growling in irritation, he moved out from beneath the covers, grabbed the alarm, and turned it off before replacing it on the night stand.

He yawned and stretched before standing up and heading quickly toward the bathroom. When he got there, Roy grabbed a towel from the rack and threw it on the floor in front of the toilet and stepped on it to avoid having to stand on the cold tile with his bare feet.

He really needed some slippers.

After finishing his morning business, Roy scooted the towel on the floor over in front of the sink with his foot and washed his hands. He looked into the mirror and sighed at his reflection.

He was getting old...

Roy flicked unhappily at the white strands in his black hair. Hawkeye was kind enough to say it made him look dignified, but he wasn't so sure.

At least he wasn't losing his hair.

He sighed and pulled out his razor. At thirty-two, he shouldn't be getting white hair. That was something that happened when you were fifty or sixty... right? He lathered up his face and dragged the razor down his jaw.

Maybe he was pushing himself too hard.

Maybe he should slow down.

Maybe.

He'd wanted to become fuhrer to somehow atone for what he'd done in the war, to make up for all the people he'd killed, to not have to follow orders but to give them; however, he was beginning to wonder if it wasn't a lost cause. Perhaps there was a different way he could atone; but, if so, he didn't know what it was.

After shaving, Roy combed his hair, then headed back to his bedroom to get dressed. Stripping off his pajamas, Roy pulled a white shirt out of the closet and put it on. As he began buttoning it, his thoughts went back to the previous night; to images of Ed leaning over him, fondling him, wanting him... It would have been so easy to let him have his way, but there had been something in his eyes... Roy didn't know quite how to explain it.

Ed said he wanted it both in words and in actions, but his eyes... His eyes had told a different story. It was as if he were a drug addict whose body needed another fix, yet his mind knew something was wrong, knew it would harm him, but felt powerless to stop it.

He pulled on his military pants and tucked in his shirt.

No… that wasn't quite right. It was like Ed was there physically, but not completely mentally.

Roy pulled his military jacket from the closet and put it on before peeling the blankets off his bed and dumping them on the floor.

_Something's just not right about this whole situation, _he thought and pulled the top sheet up to where the pillows sat, then grabbed those and tossed them off the bed as well. _Ed leaves without saying goodbye to anyone..._ He folded the bottom corners of the sheet into ninety degree angles. _...and then out of no where he just shows up for no reason at all..._

Roy pulled the sheets tight and inspected it quickly to make sure everything was how he wanted it before grabbing the first blanket and laying it over the bed. _Then he follows me home and wants me to fuck him..._ His hand paused momentarily on the second blanket as he tried to think about this.

He and Ed normally hadn't gotten along very well. Oh, they'd had their passable moments, but they'd both known that they were using each other. Ed had been using him to find a way to get his brother back to normal, and he'd been using Ed to advance his career.

Roy laid the last blanket on the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles before fluffing the pillows and laying them at the head of the bed. Stepping back, he ran his eyes over the bed, but he really wasn't seeing it; he was seeing the past and the present, and trying to put all his jumbled thoughts together.

There were a lot of things here that just didn't make sense. Of course it had been almost two years since he'd seen the young alchemist. Two years can make a big difference, but... It was almost as if Ed were a completely different person. The teen had always been so _vibrant_ and _alive_. This 'new' Ed seemed like a dull, washed out shadow of who he'd once been.

Roy looked at the clock and frowned. He'd need to leave soon...

Sighing, he opened the nightstand drawer to get his watch, then stopped. Inside the drawer lay his silver pocket watch, his reading glasses, a couple of books, and a few papers. Everything seemed normal except for one thing...

When Ed left the military, Roy had gone through and filled out all the forms and documents that the teen should have done before leaving, but he'd never returned the watch. He'd kept it for some strange reason. Perhaps it was because of what was engraved inside. It seemed such a personal thing. Perhaps even he shouldn't have known what was inside, but it had been left to him, and as such he'd felt that it had become his property.

Until now.

He'd kept the watch inside the nightstand drawer with his own. It had never been difficult to tell the two apart given that his was polished and well taken care of, while Ed's was dull with scratches and dings.

Now, though, only his watch remained.

Someone had taken the other one since he'd gone to bed.

Snatching his own watch, Roy shut the drawer and walked swiftly out of his bedroom. When he entered the living room, his eyes instantly fell on the couch and his lips pulled down into a deep frown.

Just as he'd thought...

There was no one there.

* * *

This first chapter is probably the most 'normal' chapter that you'll find in this story. I hope you're enjoying it thus far. I'll get the next chapter up soon.

--

**Comments are always welcome. :)**


	2. Forbidden

****

—

**Forgotten**

**II**

**Forbidden**

—  
Roy set the pen down before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands together. The movement generated some warmth, but not enough to make much of a difference. He breathed hard on his half-numb fingers, his breath coming out in a puff of mistiness that dissipated quickly, then rubbed his palms together again. Flexing his fingers, he folded his arms so that he could tuck his hands under his armpits, then exhaled and scowled at the vapor from his breath.

It was cold.

But then, it was winter, it was supposed to be cold.

Only... not in his _office_.

Feeling extremely frustrated, Roy stood up, pulled his long black trench coat closer around himself, and walked across the room to where the thermostat was affixed to the wall. Scowling at the temperature it displayed, Roy reached up to tap on it before putting his hands back under his arms. He'd submitted a work order to get it repaired only to have it returned with a note that said there was nothing wrong with the heater and none of the other offices were having a problem, so he should try adjusting the settings on his thermostat.

What kind of a fool did they take him for?

Working in a cold office all day does not make people more polite, as the maintenance crew learned when a very pissed off Flame Alchemist stormed in and demanded they find the problem. They immediately sent a work crew up to his office to look at his thermostat, and ultimately to replace it. What Roy wondered was why they needed three people to replace the damn thing... What the hell was the military budget paying them for anyway?

Unfortunately for Roy—and ultimately the maintenance crew—changing the equipment didn't work and in the last week they'd replaced it three different times, cleaned out the air ducts, and who knew what else, only to come up with no explanation as to why his office felt like Central City Park in a snow storm. Of course, that was an exaggeration, but given his frustration, Roy didn't really care.

This was all Ed's fault.

It had to be.

The kid showed up and the next day this happened.

Having someone to blame, however irrational it was, really didn't help him with the cold. Grumbling, Roy irritably dug his gloves out of his pocket and pulled them over his hands. He loathed using them for the purpose of keeping his hands warm. They were weapons, not winter gear. The ignition cloth was thin and practically useless for protection against the cold, but it did provide a little relief.

His eyes strayed back to his desk. His work was done for the day. All the forms were signed, all the reports were in, and he'd attended all the meetings he'd been required to go to.

It was finished.

At least for today.

But instead of heading toward the door, Roy made his way back to his chair, sat down, and rested his boots on the polished wood of his desk. It wasn't as if he had anyone to go home to. The only thing waiting for him was an empty apartment, and it wasn't all that much warmer there than it was in his office...

Roy sighed, leaned back even more in his chair, and laid an arm over his eyes. He felt worn out and miserable. That was all Ed's fault too. Well... maybe not. He often got depressed, but after his former subordinate had showed up so suddenly...

No.

Before that he'd been doing okay... not _great_, but okay.

He dropped his arm and stared up at the dotted ceiling tiles for a moment before moving his feet off the desk and leaning forward in the chair. His eyes settled on a small picture that sat on his desk by the phone; a picture taken three years ago when he'd still been stationed in the East. Maes Hughes had come with his family to visit and he'd insisted on getting a picture taken with Roy's staff. Edward and Alphonse had been in East City at the time as well, so of course they were in the picture too.

The corner of Roy's lip quirked up slightly. Funny how the two brothers had always seemed inseparable, but... A week ago Ed had been alone and he'd brushed aside any inquiries about his brother...

Very unusual.

But then, nothing about Ed's visit had been very normal except, perhaps, the sudden unexpectedness of it.

Roy let his gaze settle on the small teenager in the picture. Reaching over, he picked up the photo, turned it a little so the glare from the window didn't touch the glass, and looked closely at the boy.

So different...

The large golden eyes in the picture held a stubborn determination and a bit of mischief, but now... The eyes he'd seen last week were a dull, pale mockery of what they'd once been. The teen's body language had held a defeated and confused air, and Roy couldn't even begin to guess what had happened in the two years since he'd seen him.

Roy ran his thumb idly along the side of the cheap, silver-colored frame and shook his head at the thought.

Confused...

Yes, confused was definitely how Edward had seemed.

Roy had thought about the visit quite a bit over the last week and had come to the conclusion that something was wrong with Ed—something major. The things Ed had babbled about when they'd been on the couch were just...

His fingers tightened on the frame, but he didn't notice.

Off...

'Off' was the only way he could describe it. Ed's panicked words resounded in his mind like a song you don't want to hear and he rubbed his fingers against his forehead as if that would make them go away.

'_Don't I? Then why... why am I here? What is this all for? Can you tell me? Do you have the answer? I've searched everywhere, but I don't know what I'm looking for! It's just so lonely here! I feel like I'm being watched all the time and I just can't handle it anymore! I just want this all to_ end_!'_

Ed had said he didn't know why he'd been there, and at first Roy had thought it was a lie, but now...

Roy glanced back down at the picture, then lifted it closer to his face to look more closely at the boy. Now he supposed he'd never know. Despite the fact that he'd offered Ed a place to stay, Roy doubted he'd see him again. No, last week had been a fluke. Ed hadn't meant for it to happen, of that he was sure.

He put the picture back on the desk and stared at it for a moment longer, before laying it face down. He didn't want to see those eyes looking back at him. They were so innocent and pure, so full of life. They were the eyes of someone who never would have talked to him the way Ed had talked to him, or touched him the way Ed had touched him.

Roy felt a shiver pass through him that wasn't due to the chill of the room.

What Ed had offered...

Roy felt his body react to the memory. Sighing in frustration, Roy's eyes flitted to the closed door of his office as he reached down and touched himself through the cloth of his uniform pants.

He felt like a pervert.

For one thing, he'd known Ed since the kid had been eleven. For another, Ed was _still _so young and fourteen years was a huge difference. Of course there was also the fact that Ed was male. None of these things sat well with him, yet here he was getting hard from the memory.

Roy pulled his hand away and quickly stood up. This wasn't the place for such things... He reached down and began slipping the large black buttons of his coat through the button holes as he tried to take his mind off of the young alchemist.

Perhaps he was just lonely...

It had been a while since he'd been with anyone. His dating life had been shot to hell over the last couple of years because of some stupid incident with a subordinate. A young sergeant had been assigned to him; a beautiful and vivacious woman... Of course he'd flirted with her, and she'd reciprocated. Then, of course, flirting had become a little more and before either of them knew it they were touching, and squeezing, and fucking whenever they got the chance.

Crossing the office to the door, Roy smirked at the memory, then frowned. She'd wanted more than he wanted to give. He was fine with their casual sexual encounters; she wanted a relationship... a commitment...

Roy shook his head as he closed his office door behind him and started down the hall. When he had refused to let what they had become more... He growled at the memory. Overnight, she'd turned into the most vindictive bitch he'd ever met. Then she'd gone to his commanding officer and said that he'd raped her.

What a bunch of shit.

There had been a trial through the military courts and she'd lost. Not because she wasn't believed; no, Roy knew that some of those who were in power believed her story. She'd lost because she was only a sergeant, and also because she was a woman.

It was as simple as that.

General Hakuro had told him afterwards that he should keep his passions in check so that the military didn't have to deal with such annoyances again. Roy wasn't sure if that meant the general believed her, or if he knew about their affair, though he supposed it probably didn't really matter.

She may have lost the court case, but she won in another way. Despite the fact that he'd been found innocent, his reputation had been irrevocably ruined. She talked to everyone she could, including some of the local newspapers about 'her version' of what had happened as well as the military's mockery of her plight.

Needless to say, finding a date after that had been almost impossible. In the end, he'd simply decided it wasn't worth the hassle and quietly pulled away from the dating scene.

Roy pushed the glass doors to the military building open and folded his arms against the chill as he headed home. He sighed, his thoughts weighing him down.

His staff believed him and that meant a lot to him. Or, at least, he assumed that they thought he was innocent. After all was said and done, General Hakuro had offered Lieutenant Hawkeye a position in another department just incase she was 'uncomfortable where she was at'. She had politely declined. If she believed he was guilty, Roy didn't think she would have stayed.

He didn't think so...

Roy stepped carefully over the icy sidewalk as he neared the door to his apartment building and pulled out his keys. It wasn't something he wanted to think about anymore. Perhaps it had been for the best. Now he was able to concentrate more on work; it was all he had left.

Fumbling with the keys, he unlocked the door and let himself inside.

No, the past was the past. Now all he could do was try to get promoted despite his age and the blotch on his record that she'd put there. He smirked ruefully at that thought. The blotch that _she_ had put there... Never mind the fact that _he_ had been the one to start pulling the moves on her. It had been he who had started the affair... He sighed and tossed the keys on the table before shucking off his shoes and coat.

Maybe he should just quit it all...

That thought had been on his mind quite often, but he couldn't think of anything else he could do to atone for the things he'd done wrong. The images from the war were permanently burned into his memory and he hoped that somehow he could do enough that he could forget. To forget would be nice. He didn't want to remember the dying, didn't want to think of how he had killed those two doctors on the unreasonable orders of a superior officer devoid of any compassion.

Roy shook his head, quickly changing out of his uniform and into some nice—but not too nice—civilian clothes; just a simple pair of black slacks and a dark red, long-sleeved button up shirt. He didn't want to look like he was made of money, but it was important to at least look like he could afford what he was buying.

He pulled enough money out of his wallet for tonight's purchases and stuffed the cash in his pocket before dumping his wallet and pocket watch in his nightstand drawer. Best not to bring anything that could get stolen.

Closing the drawer, Roy opened the one beneath it. Moving aside a few papers inside, Roy flipped the top of a small cardboard box open and pulled out a small, plastic wrapped package. He paused, then took out a couple more. He probably wouldn't need more than one or two, but best to be prepared anyway.

Slipping the small, thin packages in his other pocket, Roy went to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Even though this was much more expensive than dating ever was, it was actually better in a way. He didn't have to worry about them wanting anymore than the cold, hard cash they had earned. They didn't want a relationship, they didn't want to dictate his life, and they wouldn't fuck with his career.

Making his way to the front room, Roy's eyes strayed to the empty couch and he sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, part of him regretted not taking Ed up on his offer. It was true he wasn't into men, but it would be interesting to try it at least once...

A sudden feeling of irritation swept over him. What the hell was he thinking? Having sex with Ed would have only brought more problems, he was sure of that. What he'd done was right. His former subordinate definitely had some problems, and giving in probably would have only added to those.

No.

No, he'd done what was best. For once, at least, he'd been able to make a decision that was right instead of going with what his cock wanted. With a nod to himself, Roy turned off the light, and headed out the door.

* * *

With hands thrust in his pockets and his head lowered to protect himself from the harsh wind, Ed glanced inconspicuously through the darkness at his surroundings from under the cowl of his damp coat. It was obvious that the military had given up on this section of West City a long time ago.

Dirt and grime clung to the ground and to the walls of tall buildings, abandoned of any reputable occupants long ago. What was left of the once bright paint left faded splotches on the sodden wood and plaster of the rundown structures. Pieces of sheetrock swung hazardously in the gusting wind from thin, rusted metal cables, making an ominous creaking noise.

Ed absently kicked at a large, brown, glass bottle and sent it skittering down the sidewalk until it smashed unceremoniously into another bottle, flinging shards of broken glass into the abandoned street. In Central, such an action would bring a harsh scolding from almost any passerby, but here in this forgotten part of the West's capital city, no one cared. What was a little more broken glass to them? The gutters and sidewalks were already filled with glass bottles—both broken and whole—as well as slimy, wet scraps of paper from various, unknown items.

His eyebrows knitted together in thought. There was a foul smell in the air that definitely didn't come from glass or paper... He stopped walking and bent over to examine the icy mud in the gutter. As he peered at the mess, he made out the bodies of dead and decaying mice, rats, and very large roaches.

Ironically, his stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn't eaten in days. Sighing at the thought of food, Ed stood and openly surveyed his surroundings, taking in the rest of the drab scenery around him.

Men and women—though mostly men—clustered around large, steel barrels filled with burning garbage. They stood there with hands stretched out, trying to warm themselves in the near freezing weather. The people were just as filthy as their surroundings, and in their neutral-colored clothing, they almost seemed to disappear into the background. A few gaunt faces glanced at him, suspicion burning darkly in their eyes; but, for the most part, they kept to themselves.

Ed frowned in thought when his eyes fell on a barrel with only one man standing beside it. That was an oddity, given that a pack of people surrounded the others. Shrugging to himself, he made his way to the nearly vacant barrel. As he stepped beside the man, Ed silently held out his hands to the warmth. Not that he needed to hold them both up, given that automail didn't need to be warmed, but it just didn't seem natural to only hold up one.

Glancing at the destitute man out of the corner of his eye, Ed tried to figure out why he was alone at the fire. The man was older, perhaps in his fifties or sixties, with a large build. His greasy-black hair was short, with a patch of grey on each side of his head near each ear.

The man glanced at him with tired dark-gray eyes and said, "A little young to be out here, aren't you, boy?"

Ed shrugged and continued his inspection of the old man. Besides the foul odor that emanated from him, Ed couldn't see any other reason why others would keep their distance; but then, everyone smelled just as bad, so that could hardly be the reason... The man's voice had been soft and pleasant; in fact, it almost made him think that perhaps he knew him, but that wasn't possible.

Or perhaps it was...

He never knew anymore...

Shrugging off the man's question, Ed asked bluntly, "Do I know you?"

The graying man raised an eyebrow and stared into the fire; the dancing flames amplifying the amusement on the man's face with the shadows moving and swaying in the crevices of his worn skin.

"Perhaps. We're all connected in some way or another. It could be that we've seen each other in passing or maybe we knew each other in another life."

Ed shook his head. "What a crock of shit," he muttered. "There is no other life."

"Isn't there?" The man rubbed his hands together as if to generate warmth, and succeeding in creating a sound that resembled sandpaper rubbing together. "You don't really believe that this is the only place that life exists, do you?"

He frowned and wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant noise. "It depends on what you mean by life existing, old man. If you think that things are reborn again and again, I'm going to have to disagree with you. If you mean that there are other worlds where people are born, live, and die... well, then, yes, I do believe that at least one such a place exists." He paused for a moment, glanced at the man, then back to the fire. "No, I _know_ such a place exists."

"Oh?" Ed glanced up at the man again and saw that he had an amused smile on his face. "And how can you know such a thing? I can accept _belief_, but to say you _know_... such a thing is impossible."

"Not impossible..." Ed growled.

The man scratched at his wide nose with a thick, filthy finger. "Really? Then where's your proof? To say you know, you must surely have some proof."

He turned his head and stared steadily at the fire. "I do know..." he muttered. "But I don't have proof."

The man beside him grunted and returned his hand to basking in the fire's warmth. "Then how did you come to this knowledge?" he asked in a condescending tone.

Ed swallowed hard and cleared his throat. His head hurt and he felt frustrated with the only answer he could give. "I don't remember..." he whispered after several moments. It was maddening, not knowing. This information was important, he knew it was, and it was right there in the forefront of his mind; yet, when he reached out to grab it, it was as if he'd closed his fingers around a phantom image...

"I don't care what you say. What I'm saying is the truth," Ed murmured quietly.

The man was silent for a long time before he said, "The truth? Is that so? But is the truth that you know, the real truth? Perhaps there is a truth behind that truth..."

Ed's head snapped up and he stared hard at the man beside him. "The truth behind truths?" he whispered. It sounded so familiar... Perhaps they really did know each other... But, if this man knew him, then why hadn't he already made it known? No, they didn't know each other. It wasn't possible.

"There is only one truth," a woman's smooth voice said, and Ed turned to his other side to see a figure wearing a dirty black cape with a hood covering her face from view. The cape was clasped together at the front so that he couldn't see what she was wearing. Long, crimped, black hair fell from the cowl and fluttered forward in the wind. Ed thought that perhaps he knew this woman too, but he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it...

"What is that?" he asked slowly.

"You know. You've always known. The truth is within you. The truth is all around you. It is in everyone and everything." Her voice felt like smooth silk to his ears and his breathing quickened as his body tensed from a feeling of danger. She turned her head toward him, and he glowered at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ed lied. He knew. Somewhere inside he knew what this woman was saying was true, but...

"Who are you talking to, kid?" the man asked him and Ed turned his head to stare at the other. The old man glanced from Ed, then over Ed's shoulder, then back at him. Ed's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and turned to glance at the woman in black, then back to the man. He wanted to say, 'Don't you see her?' but he didn't. He knew the man didn't see her. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened to him.

Pulling his hood to hide his face, Ed slowly stepped back from the barrel, then turned around and began walking away. The old man probably thought he was a loony now; best to just leave without making it worse.

Ed's eyes widened suddenly as a memory came back to him of being in a small house with the man at the barrel; a memory of running with him and Al as they tried to get away from the military.

Tim Marcoh.

Ed whipped around, ready to run back to the barrel. It wasn't possible! Marcoh was dead! He stopped in a half-step. The man was gone. The woman and the barrel were gone as well—disappeared as if they'd never been there in the first place; which, Ed reasoned, they probably hadn't been...

* * *

Roy moaned as the girl he'd picked up for the night lowered herself onto his erection. Her pussy was amazingly tight for a street walker and he immediately wanted more. Grabbing her soft, pale hips, he tried to push her down farther and thrust himself more deeply into her despite the fact that he was in as far as he could go. The girl—a blonde, though he was sure she was naturally a brunette—tipped her head back and moaned in ecstasy. A fake moan he was sure, but it had the desired effect on his ego and aroused him even more. He licked his lips, then softly bit on his lower lip as he ran his hand up her side to cup one of her firm breasts, then pinched her nipple until it hardened.

"Oh, yes!" she moaned and bucked her hips. The muscles inside of her squeezed hotly against his cock making his breath quicken. The desire to turn her over and fuck her senseless gripped him despite the previous craving of wanting her to ride him to climax. She seemed to sense the urgency in his breath and began to move her body in way that seemed to stimulate every part of his lower body.

Roy reached down and grabbed her hips again. "Not yet," he said through deep breaths. "I just want you to sit there for a moment." If she kept that up, he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he wanted this to last.

"Whatever you want, sexy," the girl said in a breathless, provocative voice.

Roy sighed and again moved his hand up to her breast, before glancing at her face. The prostitute was young—younger than he'd ever picked up before. He was sure she couldn't be any older than eighteen or nineteen. Perhaps she could pass for twenty, but he doubted it.

He tried to tell himself that his decision hadn't been influenced by thoughts of Ed. He hadn't picked someone who was young because of him. The fact that she had blonde hair as long as his former subordinate's wasn't related either. And, of course, her being short was no factor...

_I'm a bad liar_, he thought, _at least, when I'm lying to myself._ His eyes wandered over her body taking in her smooth curves, large breasts, and crotch; all very womanlike and feminine. That was what he liked and Ed didn't have any of that, so why the hell did he keep thinking of him?

"I want to see you mount me again," he said quietly, and watched as she lifted herself off his cock, then slowly impaled herself on his already slick erection. His heart beat quickly both at the visual stimulation and the physical. "Again," he breathed huskily, and she did as he requested. Of course she did, he was paying her handsomely...

He tried to focus on her, but his mind kept drifting back to Ed and he tried to reason it out. Perhaps it was the forbiddingness of the act that kept drawing his attention to Ed. Not just because Ed was male, but also because of the age. Roy had never even thought of fucking someone so much younger than him and the fact that his mind had labeled this girl 'forbidden' seemed to bring that much more excitement.

Would it be even more so with Ed?

_What the hell is _wrong_ with me_? Roy thought in frustration, and pulled the whore down so that he could suck on one of her nipples. This_ is what I like_, he thought as he licked and sucked. _And this_... He reached down and rubbed his finger against her slick clit. She moaned again, and this time he knew it was real. He liked getting his sluts off. It did a lot for his ego, knowing they weren't faking it. Thinking about their pleasure often seemed to get him lower rates the next time as well.

Despite trying to convince himself, he still imagined a lithe, compact body on top of him instead of a slight, female one. As he stroked her, causing her to ride him hard in her desperate need for climax, he imagined a cock in his palm.

Suddenly she leaned over and stared hard into his eyes. The girl still moved her hips, but Roy stopped cold. Her eyes seemed blank, as if the pleasure was still there, but far away. In a deep, breathy voice she said, "Edward Elric belongs to _me_, Roy Mustang."

Suddenly, with a yell, both of surprise and pleasure, Roy climaxed hard. His breathing stopped for a moment as the pleasure washed over him, then he took in a deep breath and grabbed the girl, intending on asking her what the hell she meant and how she knew Ed, but as he did, her eyes and mouth widened as she rode him and screamed before collapsing on top of him.

"Hey!" he said, shaking her. When she didn't move, Roy turned and slid his softening sex out of her before staring down into her face. The girl's eyes, now glazed, were fixed in a look of both pleasure and horror.

Roy shook his head in disbelief and shock. "Hey..." he said, a little more unsteadily and patted her face, but it was no use. He knew she was dead. He'd seen so many dead people in his life that there would be no way for him not to know. Feeling shaken, but also strangely numb and detached, Roy sat up, turned his back to her, and stared at the telephone the motel provided. He should call the police... but what would he say? That he was just so damn good in bed that she'd died from pleasure overdose?

That would go over really well, he was sure...

He carefully pulled the condom off and tossed it into the garbage. What about the thing she'd said about Ed being hers? This girl didn't even know Ed, that he aware of. Also, how could he explain the blank look in her eyes when she'd said that? He shivered and rubbed his hands against his arms and thought vaguely that the hotel should keep their rooms warmer than what they did.

He had no explanation for what had happened, but still he picked up the phone and began dialing the police station. He waited for the dispatcher to pick up, then calmly told her—in a voice devoid of emotion—the situation. He supposed he should feel a little embarrassed at having to tell someone what he'd just been up to, but that was outside the feelings of frozen indifference that filled him. After listening to the woman on the other line tell him to stay where he was until the police got there, Roy hung up and reached down for his pants. He stood and buttoned them before sitting back down and pulling on his shirt. With a sigh, Roy turned and pulled a blanket over the dead and very naked girl.

It was the least he could do.

For a time he sat staring blankly at the sheet covered lump, his mind refusing to believe what had just happened, then stood and walked to the bathroom to clean himself up. What would he tell the police when they got there? The question repeated itself again and again in his head. Would they believe that he'd had nothing to do with her death? Did he believe himself?

With shaking hands, Roy pulled the knob to turn on the facet and splashed cold water on his face. The more he thought about it, the more nervous and freaked out he felt. He'd seen his share of dead people before—had _killed_ his share of people before—but this was different... This wasn't war and he hadn't killed her... He _hadn't_! Would anyone believe him? He already had that rape charge on his record, no matter how false it was, and now this... He didn't know if he'd believe someone with that sort of a track record...

Roy lifted his head to stare at himself in the mirror and yelled involuntarily when he saw, not only his reflection, but that of the dead prostitute. Whirling around, he raised his hands as if to defend himself, but there was no one there. He spun back to face the mirror and saw the girl, still there, and staring at him with large eyes, the irises a golden-yellow around deep black pupils.

"He's mine," the girl said, her voice seeming to echo as if there were hundreds of voices saying the same thing. Shouting in shock and fear, Roy slammed his fist into the mirror, the glass cutting his skin as it crashed down from the frame. Backing out of the bathroom, he fumbled for the doorknob and pulled it shut before falling back against the short, hallway wall.

Looking down, he saw that blood flowed freely from the cuts in his knuckles. Roy quickly drew an array on the door in the thick, red fluid and activated it; sealing the door shut. His body shivered in the cold room and he sighed in relief before he remembered the girl on the bed. Jumping to his feet, Roy turned and slammed himself against the wall beside the bathroom door, staring at the messy, hotel bed.

The form of the dead girl lay where he'd left her beneath the sheet. He shuddered and pressed his back against the wall, letting his body slide down to the floor. He had no idea what had just happened, but it had just scared the hell out of him. After living through the horrors of the Ishbal war, he'd thought he'd never feel that afraid again.

He was wrong.

* * *

**Comments are love**. Thank you very much to everyone who left me feed back for the first chapter. It is much appreciated.


	3. Confusion

—

**Forgotten**

**III**

**Confusion **

—  
Ed's eyes popped opened. Something had awakened him, but he wasn't sure what. All seemed quiet now. Perhaps he had woken because of a dream? It was possible, but he couldn't remember what he had been dreaming only moments before. As the indistinct fuzziness of sleep began to fade, Ed became aware of being in a bed; of someone holding onto him. He blinked at the white stucco ceiling, then turned his head to see who was lying so close to him.

A woman who looked to be in her late forties slept next to him. Her skin seemed to be well taken care of, but that didn't hide the wrinkles of her age. Medium-length, chestnut-brown hair splayed messily around her; and as he stared, the gray in her hair became more noticeable. He frowned and shifted, causing the sheets to rustle a little as they moved against his body. Ed glanced down involuntarily and blinked, feeling faintly surprised.

Naked.

He was naked with a woman he didn't know...

Ed laid there for several moments, wondering what he should do. Finally, he lightly grabbed the woman's arm and moved it carefully off his body so as not to wake her, and sat up. The sheets and blanket slid off him and he instantly shivered. Cocooned in the covers as he had been, Ed hadn't realized how chilly the room was. He felt goose bumps cover his skin and instantly crawled back under the covers, yet that didn't stop the unnatural chill that seemed to fill the air.

Glancing to his other side, Ed saw a man sleeping with his back turned to him. From the looks of it, Ed suspected the man was probably just as old as the woman, though not in as good of shape. The woman was thin and probably kept herself healthy by exercising regularly. The man...

Ed shook his head and let his eyes wander over the bedroom. The bed the three of them were in was ridiculously large. Cream colored sheets lay beneath a floral-print comforter on the bed. Two tall, oak bedposts rose from the corners at the end of the mattress and reached halfway to the ceiling. He turned and looked at the headboard, a sturdy thing with a curved top, and noted that identical bedposts rose from the back corners before glancing around the rest of the room. Two oak nightstands were placed on either side of the bed, each cleared off except for a small lamp. A long oak dresser sat past the foot of the bed, the style of it matching the nightstands and bed frame.

Ed frowned deeply feeling slightly confused. He had no recollection of coming here; no memory of the two people he was in bed with. In fact, today he was feeling particularly fuzzy in his head, as if even his identity was hidden from him like the sun behind passing dark clouds.

Taking in a sharp breath to brace himself against the cold, Ed crawled out from beneath the warm sheets and carefully climbed off the bed. He stopped and waited to see if the two people would wake; but when they didn't, he walked over to the dresser where picture frames lined the sleek wooden surface. Ed glanced at each, wondering vaguely if he was in any of them.

There were pictures of the two people—both old pictures, such as wedding photos; and new ones, pictures of them with a young girl and boy—and then pictures with the girl and boy who seemed to have grown and were now in their late teens or early twenties. Ed grabbed one of the picture frames and tilted it so that he faintly reflected off the glass, then quickly put it back.

He wasn't the boy in the picture. That's all he needed to know. He turned and stared at the bed. No... he wouldn't be. It seemed that the girl and boy were these people's children, and if he was their kid, then he wouldn't have been in bed naked with them. Ed glanced back at the sleeping couple and frowned. At least... he supposed that was true...

With a sigh that produced a puff of misty breath in the cold room, he glanced down at the floor. Clothing was scattered across the light brown carpet in a haphazard fashion; though, despite that, he easily found what was his. Quickly gathering up his stuff, Ed held the clothing close to his body, wondering if he should get dressed. He shivered again and thought suddenly that a hot shower would be nice. He lifted his arm and smelled it, then made a face of disgust. A shower would _definitely_ be the best course of action.

Glancing around, Ed saw a door that seemed to lead to the master bathroom and started toward it. Letting himself into the room, Ed shut the door and stared hard into the pitch-black bathroom. Suddenly, a shiver passed through him at the feeling that he wasn't alone. He reached out blindly with his hands and quickly felt around for the light switch. When he found it, Ed turned it on and swiftly twisted around, ready to defend himself if needed. Instead of finding an immediate threat, he saw a brightly furnished bathroom. Yellow flowers, rugs, trinkets and multiple towels decorated the room. He supposed it was meant to be cheerful, but instead he felt even more unease than he had before he'd turned on the light.

Ed tossed his clothes on the floor and glanced up to see himself in the mirror. His hair was loose and messy, and his body held a gauntness to it that made him think perhaps he hadn't been eating so well lately. Not that he could remember right now, but it was the suspicion he had. Small bruises marred his skin in various places; some looked as if they were from fingers, others looked as if someone had sucked on him for too long. Some looked old and others very recent—perhaps some of them were from the night before.

However, those things didn't capture his attention for long. What held him were his eyes. Large and golden, they seemed to draw him in as if he were falling into liquid, yellow pools. He felt as though he would drown in them; and, if he did, then he would truly die. His heart beat quickly and he tried to tear his gaze away, but it was as if someone was holding him where he stood, as if someone were watching him... as if someone were waiting behind those eyes.

Fear gripped his heart, and his skin prickled with goosebumps as he imagined it wasn't just one who watched him, but many... Perhaps even _he_ was behind those eyes in the mirror. Could it be that he was standing in front of the mirror, but was also staring back at himself from somewhere else...?

Crazy thoughts.

They were insane thoughts, and he knew it. He wasn't out of his mind, was he? Perhaps he really was crazy, but he just couldn't remember that he was. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but he couldn't. It seemed too real. The feeling of many eyes on him wouldn't go away and when he was finally able to look from the mirror he grabbed one of the towels from the towel rack and tucked part of in the small space between the wall and the back of the mirror. It was covered, but he only felt slightly better.

Swallowing hard, Ed reached for the knob that would turn on the bathtub faucet—his hand visibly shaking—and grabbed a hold of it. The metal felt cool against his skin and he let his breath out slowly as he turned on the tap. Hot water ran from the faucet and when he lifted the small metal bar on the faucet, the water started spraying down from the shower head instead.

Not wishing to stay in the bathroom any longer than necessary, Ed quickly climbed into the tub and closed the flowered, yellow shower curtain. He stood there—the water raining down on him—confused and unsure what to do next. This wasn't _his_ shower... Was it okay that he was in here? Was it alright if he used their soaps and creams? Chewing lightly on his lip, Ed decided that if it wasn't okay, he'd rather apologize later, then have to go and ask for permission now.

He picked up one of the bottles and squeezed the contents into his hand. The clearish-blue slime oozed over his automail hand and he felt slightly fascinated by the fact that he couldn't even feel it. Of course he couldn't, it was metal, but this hand—this arm—was part of him; most likely attached even more securely than his real one, yet he felt nothing. Ed set the bottle down and rubbed his hands together as he wondered vaguely how long he'd had automail. His body seemed to be used to it so he supposed it must have been a long time.

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair concentrating on how the automail fingers against his scalp felt as opposed to his real ones. He pulled his hands away and grimaced when his automail hand caught on something. Reaching over with his real hand, Ed untangled his hair from the automail the best he could before squeezing his eyes shut and pulling the automail roughly. He heard the hair tear and break, and when he opened his eyes, Ed looked at his automail hand and saw blond strands of hair sticking out from the joints. He cleaned them out to the best of his ability, thinking that perhaps he should have known better.

Maybe he did, but he just couldn't remember right now.

He frowned as he rinsed his hair. The thought gave him little comfort; and, in fact, made him feel even more unnerved. Ed reached for the soap and lathered up his hands before rubbing them over his body. That felt so good, and it seemed to calm him a little; especially the feel of his automail hand against his skin. It was almost like someone else was there, touching him, comforting him, making him feel good.

As the metal fingers traveled over his chest, they caught lightly on his nipples and a small moan of pleasure escaped him. His penis twitched and a burning need began to fill his groin. His nipples started to harden and again he brushed his fingers over them. Forgetting about his previous nervousness, Ed slid his hand down to his cock, careful to avoid the light pubic hairs, and slowly stroked himself.

He bucked his hips forward and his cock slid easily through his soapy grip. So good... it felt so good; as if he wasn't fucking his own hand, but someone else's. As he moved his hand and hips, Ed reached up with his real hand and pinched his nipples; softly at first, but as his need grew, he pinched them harder in an effort to give his body more stimulation. His groin ached for release, and he thrust harder and faster into his hand. Suddenly, he reached his peak and bucked his hips forward once more before holding still as milky cum spurted from him. It spattered against the back of the tub, then merely dripped onto the bottom of the bathtub as the force lessened.

When it was over, Ed felt slightly light-headed. Slowly, he lowered himself to his hands and knees, and closed his eyes. He felt something rubber against his foot and kicked it away. A metal chain slid against his toes and suddenly the sound of draining water stopped. Frowning, Ed realized he must have kicked the stopper into the drain, but it didn't matter. The lingering feeling of having released was what was important. He felt more relaxed, though still a little dizzy, and it felt good to feel the hot water from the shower pelting his back.

As he knelt there on his hands and knees, the water level in the tub slowly began to rise and Ed opened his eyes. Shock and horror filled him as he realized he was again staring into his reflection, though this time it was faint and watery. Although his reflection rippled slightly from the pelting shower, it was as if it were a real person staring at him through a window that was being hit with rain. Terror raced through him when his reflection grinned at him—wicked cruelty radiating in those bright, yellow eyes.

Ed tried to get back up, but he couldn't. Another glance showed his reflection holding onto his hands under the water. Panicked now, Ed slid one of his legs under him so that his foot was against the bottom of the tub and he tried to push himself up with no success. The grip on his wrists was too tight.

Swinging his head wildly from side to side, Ed tried to think of a way out of this. Suddenly, he felt himself pulled forward toward the ever-rising water. The arms of his reflection were pulled back a little as it drew him forward; yet, oddly enough, he could still feel the surface of the tub beneath his palm. In alarm, Ed realized that if he didn't think of something, he really would drown in those eyes, though not exactly in the way he'd thought before...

Again he pushed up with the foot when suddenly it slipped against the slick porcelain. His knee hit the bottom and he cried out in shocked pain before his head was pulled under the water. With all the effort that was in him, Ed pressed against the tub with his knees as he used his back and abs to pull his upper body up. His head thrust out of the water though the water came to his chin now.

In an effort to relieve his knee of the pain he was feeling, Ed put all his weight on his automail knee and moved his real leg back. It was then that he felt the metal chain. Desperately, Ed grabbed the chain with his toes and tried to pull, but he simply wasn't strong enough.

He looked down at the water and his reflection was so close now that he thought he could hear it whispering, "Come with me! This is where you belong. I own you, Edward Elric."

At that moment, the chain slipped from his grip and he shouted, "No!" Though, whether it was because of losing the chain or a response to the whispering, he didn't know. Perhaps it was both. Gritting his teeth, Ed put all of his weight on his injured knee and moved his automail foot back. He couldn't feel the chain now, but he could hear it when it connected with his toes.

"You're not happy there, Edward. Let me set you free!" he heard whispered in his mind.

Grabbing the chain firmly, Ed pulled with all his might and the stopper came loose, causing him to gasp as he fell face first into the water again. This time, pulling back up was easier as the water began to drain. Gasping and coughing, Ed lifted his foot and kicked back, slamming the faucet against the wall to turn off the water. The grip on his wrists lessened and Ed was able to pull free and hurry out of the tub. From the corner of his eye, he saw that, instead of his reflection following him as would be normal, it lunged for his foot, trying to make one last grab at him.

For a minute, Ed sat, wet and dripping, on the cold tile floor; breathing hard through his mouth as he tried to calm himself. He'd been so afraid... His body shook violently and he wrapped his arms around himself trying to stop it. His brain worked in overdrive to convince him that what happened wasn't real; it wasn't possible...

Finally, with shaky hands, Ed grabbed one of the towels and started to quickly dry himself. It didn't happen, he told himself. It didn't. It wasn't possible. Ed told himself that he was simply overreacting to how he'd felt about the mirror, though that line of thought wasn't very convincing.

He quickly pulled on his clothes, which were dirty and smelled of sweat and grime, and hurried out of the bathroom. He stopped and looked around the bedroom. All was as it had been before; nothing had changed.

Nothing.

His eyes fixed on the telephone which sat on one of the nightstands next to the bed and he blinked. Had there been a phone there before? He didn't think so; but then, perhaps he just hadn't seen it. Walking slowly to the nightstand, Ed picked up the receiver, pressed it to his ear and heard a dull dial tone. Without giving the matter too much thought, he quickly dialed, idly watching the rotary turn each time he put in a number.

There was a ring, then another before he heard a click and, "Rockbell Automail—Alphonse speaking. How can I help you today?" The voice on the other line was a light baritone and Ed supposed it should sound pleasant. Instead, the voice sounded bored and dull like something that had once been bright, but had since lost its shine.

Ed was quiet for a moment, not sure what to say.

"Hello?" the voice said again, this time sounding more aware and slightly suspicious.

"I'm sorry..." Ed whispered, though for what he wasn't sure.

The voice on the other line was silent for a moment, then he heard a cautious, "Brother...?"

"I'm sorry," Ed repeated, not sure whether he really was the other person's brother or not.

"Brother," the voice whispered urgently. "Where are you?"

Ed looked around the room and murmured, "The bedroom."

"Okay... that's a start. What house is the bedroom in?" The voice had taken on a tone that one reserved for either children or dimwits, but Ed paid this no mind.

"I don't know," he said quietly. He really didn't know. He still didn't even know who _he_ was, let alone anything else.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Is there someone you can ask?"

Ed glanced at the two people on the bed. Despite all the noise he must have been making, they hadn't woken, hadn't even moved. As if in a dream, Ed said dully, "They're dead." The moment he said it, he knew it was true. He supposed he should feel upset about this, but he didn't.

He felt nothing.

His skin felt numb and suddenly the phone he was holding seemed too heavy. He lifted his other hand, his automail one, and stopped when it clinked dully against something in his pocket. There was silence from the phone, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch.

At that moment, the voice on the phone spoke again. "Ask someone who isn't dead," the voice said in a slight monotone that made a chill run through him. He held the pocket watch up in front of his face and studied the scratches and dings in the cool, silver surface.

"There is no one else," he whispered vaguely, feeling himself mentally slipping away from the conversation.

"Brother?" the voice asked. The flat tone was gone, once again replaced with an urgent and familiar one. "Brother, answer me!"

"The dead keep their secrets, Alphonse. It's the living who can't be trusted," Ed murmured and watched as the watch began to turn on the chain.

"Brother, you have to come back to Rizembool," the voice on the other line said. It was almost a command, yet still a plea. "Tell me where you are so I can come get you."

As the watch turned, Ed noticed something etched into the metal on the back. He held it close and peered interestedly at it. There was a name and an address.

"Brother? Are you still there?" the voice asked again.

Ed figured if someone had gone through the trouble of marring the watch with this information, then it must be important. Of course! This person must know the answers! He would go to this address and find this person.

With eyes still riveted on the watch, Ed said, "I'll ask him."

"Him? Him who?" the voice asked, again sounding suspicious and harsh.

Ed stuffed the watch back in his pocket and said with a clarity he didn't feel, "Mustang knows, Al. Mustang always knows." At that, Ed hung the phone up. Stepping back, Ed stared at it, wondering who it was he'd just been talking to.

With a shrug, he turned around and started for the bedroom door. He needed to go to that address. He suddenly felt obsessed with it. It must be important if he'd scratched it on there. Stopping, Ed cast his mind back to that thought. Was it _he_ who had scratched it in? If so, he couldn't remember...

He started walking again, a little slower this time as he suddenly remembered that he didn't know who he was or why he was here. The thought made him extremely uncomfortable. Reaching out, Ed pulled open the bedroom door and stepped outside. The outside of the house was filled with rotting vegetation and pieces of cement that had once been the sidewalk led from the street to the house. Strips of wood and construction materials dotted the decaying yard—the weight of these partially sinking into the putrid bog that must have once been a lawn. The street beyond was broken up and in disrepair making him think that no one could have driven on it for a long time.

Swallowing hard, Ed turned back to glance from where he'd just come, and saw a broken-down, shell of a house. The doorknob he held onto was old and rusted and the room beyond was dimly lit and filled with various pieces of construction wreckage. A nondescript rat scurried across the room and squeaked loudly before finding a place to hide.

With a feeling of confused fear, Ed let go of the door and stepped backward. He stopped abruptly when he heard a sickening 'squish' sound and his foot began to sink. The sinking caused fear from something forgotten to grip him and he quickly pulled his foot back up onto steady ground. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he stepped gingerly onto the broken sidewalk and started for the street; all the while not moving his eyes away from the sinister-looking house.

When he set foot on the street, Ed stopped and took in the house before him. The building looked to be structurally unsound, as if it would fall over any moment; and yet, part of him could have sworn that when he'd been in there...

"Young man?" Ed blinked and turned his head. An old woman looked curiously at him and said worriedly, "Are you... alright?"

He stared dumbly at her, wondering where she could have come from. "I..."

"You've been standing there, staring at my house for almost an hour now, and I thought perhaps you might be ill..."

Ed blinked. Hours? Her house? He whipped his head around and blinked again. The house in front of him was a small, cozy-looking thing, with white trim and a cute picket fence around the yard. The lawn was green, and well cared-for bushes grew near the house making it seem the ideal place for someone like her to live. He glanced around. In fact, the whole neighborhood seemed to be a nice, friendly place.

"You were even standing out here all the while it was raining..." she said, her voice radiating concern.

He looked at her and muttered, "Rain...?"

The woman nodded and pointed at him. "You see? Your hair is still wet from it."

Slowly, Ed reached up and touched his undone hair. Just as she'd said, it was damp. "I..." He wasn't sure what to say. He really had no idea why he was standing there. He had a feeling he'd been heading somewhere, but...

He thrust his hands into his pockets, then frowned when his hand connected with something hard and metal in his pocket. Taking it out, Ed saw that it was a pocket watch. He stared hard at the symbol on the front, then looked up when the woman spoke.

"Oh my! Are you a State Alchemist?" He glanced back down at the watch, but before he had a chance to say that he really wasn't sure, she went on. "But you're so young!" She paused, then said, "Are you the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

The name sounded familiar, and suddenly, as if something had just clicked in his head, Ed smiled brightly and said, "Yeah! That's me! I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist!" That was him! Of course! What had he been thinking?

"Well, I'll be!" the woman exclaimed. "And where's that brother of yours? I heard he's a tall one, all dressed in heavy armor."

Ed blinked, again at a loss. Where _was_ Al? He glanced around, then saw a stray cat run behind a corner. He smiled brightly and looked again at the woman, "I'll bet he's off finding stray cats. He loves 'em." Without giving it another thought, Ed stuffed the watch back in his pocket and said, "I'll go find him!"

He started to jog the way the cat had gone, then turned around, ready to tell the woman not to go anywhere, then stopped. The woman was gone, and instead of a nice cozy house and friendly neighborhood, he saw a business plaza with people hurrying on their way. Snow flitted lightly down from a gray sky to either melt on the sidewalk or pile up in the corner. He frowned and scratched his head, then suddenly wondered why his hair was wet. It took him a moment, but then he remembered it was because of the rain. Ed shook his head and turned around. Or maybe it was because of the snow... He shrugged, deciding it didn't matter. Without stopping to think why his hair would be wet and not his clothes, Ed rushed off to find his brother.

* * *

**Thank you to those of you who have left me comments. They really brighten my day.**


	4. Undefined

**-**

**Forgotten**

**IV**

**Undefined **

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Riza Hawkeye stopped the car in front of the apartment building and looked around mildly before turning the car off. With the engine silent, she almost felt that the day was a peaceful one. It had snowed the night before and everything looked so white and clean. It was early, so people had yet to leave their home to track footprints in the snow and make a muck of the roads with their cars.

Yes, the day really was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Pulling on the latch, Riza opened the door and let herself out of the car. She shivered slightly at the change in temperature and rubbed at her arms without thinking before closing the car door behind her. The sound echoed slightly around her in the empty neighborhood and she shivered again, though this time it was more from the eerie feeling that had tingled through her, than from anything else.

She looked up at the large apartment building and frowned. The colonel had been cleared of all charges concerning the prostitute's death, and they had released him last night. She hadn't been there; she hadn't known... hadn't found out until this morning. But then, she had a feeling that was the way her commanding officer had wanted it.

Riza buried her hands deep in her heavy military overcoat and started slowly toward the building. She tried to concentrate on the sound her shoes made when they crushed the new snow under her boots, but it didn't help. Her mind was racing with the memories of the previous week and she couldn't seem to put them all in order.

The man in charge, the one conducting the investigation, had been thrilled to have such a high profile military officer and state alchemist as his suspect. Riza clearly remembered the night she'd first met the man. It had been the night the woman had died...

Riza probably wouldn't have found out about the incident until the next day if the colonel hadn't called her. She'd been asleep when the phone rang, but all tiredness had vanished when she'd heard his voice.

She stopped in front of the door to the apartment building and shivered again.

His voice had been so...

Dead.

He'd explained in quiet tones that he'd been arrested and that he probably wouldn't be into work the next day, so if she could inform General Hakuro he would appreciate it greatly. When she'd tried to ask questions, he'd simply said that he needed to go and that was it.

Breathing in deeply, Riza felt the frigid morning air burn her lungs with cold before letting her breath out in a puff of mistiness that vanished almost immediately before reaching out and opening the door to the old apartment building.

Not one to let such a thing daunt her, Riza had gotten dressed and headed over to the police station. That was where she'd met the investigator—a large, balding man with a hard disposition. He'd taken a small amount of time to talk to her concerning the case; though most likely it was to let her know that the police, not the military, were going to handle it.

He'd been arrogant and so sure that the colonel was guilty that she'd disliked him immediately. Riza knew his kind. He was the type to convict someone even if the person was innocent. But there had been nothing she could do.

Riza rubbed her hands together as she walked down the hall toward the colonel's door. The hallway walls of the apartment building were old and faded, and the center of the thin carpet along the floor was worn from years of foot traffic; but, despite that, it wasn't in a great state of disrepair.

She sighed as the memories from the previous week wouldn't leave her mind. She'd tried to visit the colonel, but they'd informed her that he didn't want visitors. So, she'd waited and bided her time until yesterday when she'd gotten the call. It had been the investigator...

It had only been a week, but the once overconfident investigator had looked ragged when she'd gone to see him. Ragged and tired. He'd asked her warily if she'd been to see the colonel and if he'd said anything to her. She hadn't responded, only stared at him. He would know if she'd seen or talked to him... To that, he'd sighed and said quietly that the colonel had spoken little since the night they brought him in... And what little he had spoken...

Riza had asked if he thought Roy Mustang was guilty and the look he'd given her... it had been indescribable and a small tingle of nervous fear had traveled up her spine. The man had been quiet for a long time before whispering in a disturbed tone, 'Something happened that night. I don't know what it was, and truthfully, I'm not sure I want to know. He may have done it, he may not have. I don't know, but I'm releasing him."

When she reached the colonel's door, Riza stopped and frowned deeply. Leaning against the wall near the door was something large, thin, and flat. Cautiously, she stepped forward to examine it. The side facing her was a light gray, and screws were poking out at the corners. She bent over a little and grabbed onto the side, pulling it slightly away from the wall to look on the other side.

It was a mirror.

More precisely it looked like a bathroom mirror.

The sound of a door opening met her ears and she looked up to see the colonel walk out of the apartment, carrying a smaller mirror. He was dressed in old, tan sweats and a waist-length, heavy-looking brown coat. She could see the bottom of a thick, forest-green sweatshirt peaking out from below the bottom of the coat and at the wrists. She blinked at the mismatched colors, but didn't have time to dwell on them.

Colonel Mustang stopped when he saw her, but didn't say anything. His eyes, dark and bloodshot, held a reserved look in them, as if unsure what to do next. Seeing him look so hesitant was enough to give her a moment's pause.

Finally, Riza straightened. "Sir..." she said slowly, uncertain what to say now that she was here. Should she ask him what he was doing with the mirrors? Should she ask him about what happened in the jail? Should she ask about the prostitute? None of it was her business, not really... Besides, even if he told her, did she really want to know?

"Lieutenant," Roy murmured in a greeting that sounded forced. The skin under his eyes was dark, and his hair was greasy and uncombed. Except for a slight pinkness to his nose and ears, his face was pale and washed-out looking; making her afraid that perhaps he'd caught something from someone in the jail.

They stood there, each quietly studying the other in an uncomfortable silence until Riza finally said, "I heard that they'd released you..." She stopped, feeling awkward at the way he was looking at her.

By now, she was sure all of Central knew that he'd been released. The papers had gone wild over the 'scandalous murder' until the military had stepped in and forced them to keep the story out of the headlines. They were now only allowed to print the barest of details on the story, but the damage had already been done.

His eyes were locked onto hers and it was as if he was searching them for something... Unable to handle his gaze, Riza looked down at the mirror he held and asked, "What are you doing?" That seemed to be the safest question out of all the ones she had. Instead of answering, the colonel lifted the mirror in his hands and turned it so that the reflective side was facing her.

"Tell me, Lieutenant," he said in a quiet whisper. "What do you see?"

She frowned and her reflection's eyebrows knit together in confusion. What kind of a question was that? What was he getting at? Was this a coded question, or was it a way to divert her from getting a real answer to what had happened?

Riza pressed her lips together and let a deep breath out of her nose as she turned her attention to the mirror. She saw herself in the glass—a tall woman wearing a heavy, military-issue coat. Her skin, free from makeup, was a light creamy color; yet her cheeks, nose, and ears were pink from the cold. Her blonde hair was pulled up tightly, and her bangs were brushed neatly to one side and slightly over one of her brown eyes.

Her expression, and the way she held herself, gave off an air of stern authority. When she was at work that was the impression Riza liked to give of herself. She was actually a rather kind-hearted person, but she knew that wasn't a trait that was valued in the military, and if she was going to continue to climb the ranks with Colonel Mustang, then she needed to be what the military wanted.

"I see myself," she said in answer to his question.

"Anything else?" he asked as if she was missing something. Riza gave him a sidelong glance before slowly shaking her head. She wasn't sure what the colonel was wanting from her, and this was starting to get a little eerie.

"Good..." the colonel said, then reached down and picked up the other mirror before walking past her. She turned and watched him head down the hall toward the door she'd just come in, then slip outside.

Suddenly, Riza realized how tense her body had been and she forced herself to relax. This was much more uncomfortable than she'd thought it would be... Standing alone in the hallway, Riza was wondering what to do next when a cold draft hit the back of her neck.

She turned, expecting to see another door to the outside on the other side of the hall, but there was none. Instead, Riza noted that the colonel's door was open, but... She shivered. The air was much too cold to be coming from his apartment, unless he had a window open...

Rubbing her hand on the back of her neck to give it some warmth, Riza moved to the open doorway and looked inside. The apartment was dark—all the windows and blinds shut tightly. However, it was definitely his apartment that the cold air was coming from.

Riza frowned in thought. It suddenly dawned on her that although the colonel's clothes had been mismatched color-wise, a theme had been present—the fact that everything he'd been wearing was made to protect from the cold. It could have been that he'd dressed that way in preparation for going outside, but perhaps he was wearing it because of the temperature in his apartment. But, why would he keep his apartment so cold? He wasn't so cheap that he'd voluntarily go without heat in his apartment, was he? She didn't think so. Not after all the fuss he'd made over the heat in his office not working.

"Would you like to come in?"

Riza jumped slightly and took in a sharp, surprised breath. Pressing her hand against her chest, she turned and stared at Colonel Mustang who was now standing beside her. He'd been so quiet that she hadn't even heard him...

"I'm sorry... what?" she asked, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Would you like to come inside?" he offered quietly.

Riza glanced back into the unnaturally cold and dark apartment, and felt a chill go through her that had nothing to do with the temperature. It just didn't look like the type of place she wanted to be alone with a man who had been accused of both rape and murder... It wasn't that she didn't trust her commanding officer, it was just...

She turned her gaze to Mustang and stared silently at him for a moment—studying him and trying to decide what to do. She _did_ think that the colonel was innocent, but there was a part of her that was still unsure. How could she know for certain that some sort of foul play hadn't been involved in each of the cases? The colonel insisted that he hadn't raped that woman, and Riza did believe that to an extent because she'd known of their affair, but she had no idea what could have happened with the prostitute. Not only that, but the way he was acting... It _was_ a bit strange, and she couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

"I see..." the colonel murmured softly when she didn't say anything.

"Sir, I just—" she started, trying to explain her hesitance in a way that didn't make her seem as distrustful as she felt.

"Maybe you should go," he suggested. His voice was still soft, but it held a slight flatness to it that made her feel a little guilty. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "It might be best if you didn't come to my home again. I'm sure you were... concerned... about me, but it's more appropriate for us to associate in a work environment."

Her shoulders fell as she realized that she'd lost her chance to talk to him about what happened. "Yes, sir..." she said in a slightly dejected tone.

He nodded slightly, then said, "If you'll excuse me...?"

She stepped away from the doorway as he entered the apartment and closed the door. The sound of it shutting echoed slightly in the empty hallway, sending another small shiver through her. She suddenly felt an irrational need to be gone from this place—a desire to run away and never see the colonel again.

Turning, Riza quickly walked down the hall and herself out of the building. Now that she was outside and there was no chance of the colonel seeing her, she wanted to run to her car, but the sidewalk was too slick for that. Carefully trudging through the snow, Riza made her way to the car, then stopped.

An icy breeze silently ruffled her blonde hair, making it tickle against her forehead as she glanced around the still empty neighborhood. Riza turned and stared up at the old apartment building, then let her eyes travel down the exterior. To the far left of the building, a dumpster was parked, almost out of the way, but still visible enough. It was almost filled, and she could easily see the two mirrors lying face up on the trash bags.

Riza frowned, then took a step toward the dumpster. The mirrors should have reflected the gray sky and perhaps even the tops of the buildings, but all she could see in them from this distance was a light, whitish-yellow. Parts of the reflective glass would go dark for a moment, and perhaps even move across the surface of the mirror, but then the dark spots were gone, leaving only yellow again. She took another step forward; and, when she blinked, the yellowish color was gone, and the dull gray of the sky was reflecting off the mirror.

Riza's frown deepened and shook her head before turning to get into the car. _I'm just being paranoid after the colonel's strange behavior,_ she thought as she opened the door, slipped inside, and started the car.

She gave a worried glance at the building again, remembering what the investigator had said, and how he'd looked. Riza supposed she could finally understand, at least a little bit. If the colonel had acted this strangely when they'd tried to interrogate him... Pressing her lips together, Riza gave one last sigh, pulled away from the curb, and drove away.

* * *

Ed sighed heavily and glanced around the dimly lit town square. It was just after sundown, yet there was still enough light in the sky to make out the silhouette of the squat buildings around him. The town was a rather well kempt place just a few miles west of Central city and he supposed it would be a good place to stay for the night.

He stuffed his hands deep inside the pockets of his pants and wiggled his fingers around, but the only thing there was air, lint, and his pocket watch. He didn't have any money for a room. Not that he hadn't slept out on the street often enough, but the cold weather was starting to really sink into him and his body was beginning to show signs of wearing down. A night or two with a warm bed could do him a lot of good...

The sound of raucous laughter sounded from one of the buildings close to him as someone walked through the door and out into the cold. Curious, Ed made his way toward the building and when he was close enough he could see that it was a tavern.

Ed fingered the watch carefully, wondering if he could put a room and a hot meal on the state's tab. He certainly didn't look like a state alchemist with how shabby his clothes had become, but he had the watch; that might count for something.

Taking a deep breath, Ed quickly ascended the wooden steps up to the veranda and let himself inside. Warm air hit his face instantly, making his skin prickle slightly, and he squinted a little at brightness of the room that contrasted so sharply with the darkening world outside. The smells of roast beef filled his nostrils, making his stomach growl and his mouth salivate heavily.

Blinking to get used to the light, Ed looked around and let his gaze settle on a group of men who were gathered around one table toward the back. Suddenly they all began shouting and hooting as one of the men who'd been sitting at the table got up and angrily stormed away. Ed could hear the sounds of coins clinking as the men began to quiet and then the sound of someone calling for another person to enter the game.

"Something we can do you for, stranger?" a female voice asked, and Ed glanced away from the men to see a pretty young woman with long, reddish hair smiling up at him. The apron she wore accentuated the figure her semi-loose work clothing only hinted at and he couldn't keep his eyes from moving up and down her body before his gaze finally came to rest on her face. He hadn't been with anyone for a couple of days and it was really beginning to weigh him down.

She silently raised a thin eyebrow as if she could see the desire he felt painted across his face. Perhaps she could. She was pretty enough that Ed figured she must be used to men desiring her, but it wasn't really _her_ he desired. He simply hated that lonely, empty feeling that gnawed at him all the time, and being with someone, _anyone_ for even a night helped him get through another day.

"I need a room for the night and something to eat," he murmured before pulling out his watch. "It will all go on the state's tab."

Her eyes flickered slightly at the sight of the watch, and this time she eyed him up and down with new appreciation. A small, mischievous smile pulled at her lips and she said quietly, "All of the rooms are taken, but I'm sure I can find you somewhere to sleep if you're willing to wait until I get off work."

The corner of Ed's lips quirked up and he breathed, "If you could find me somewhere to sleep, then I'm sure I could find a way to repay you..." And he would too. He'd been with enough people that he knew how to please anyone—whether they were female or male.

She gave him a toothy smile, then led him to a table. As he sat, she said, "I'll get you something to eat." She paused, then asked, "Would you like something to drink as well?"

He thought on this for a moment, then nodded slowly before saying, "Something hard. I don't care what." To this, she nodded and hurried away to the kitchen.

Sighing, Ed looked down at the watch and turned it over in his hands thoughtfully. He remembered scratching Mustang's name and address into the watch after sneaking into his room and taking it from the drawer. He couldn't—or rather, he wouldn't—stay with Mustang; that much he'd known. Mustang had done something that no one else had done. He'd refused him. He hadn't taken advantage of him when he could have. For some reason, that had mattered...

Despite the frustrated disappointment he'd felt over being rejected, Ed had felt amazed and awed at it too. He'd felt... safe. Yet, he'd felt that pull to be with someone; and if Mustang wouldn't physically get close to him, then he'd go find someone who would. Truthfully, Ed had wanted to stay, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he forgot why he was there and wandered off in search of... well, whatever it was that he was searching for... He hadn't been so clear minded that he knew exactly what he was searching for—even now he wasn't—but he'd known that he was searching, and he'd known that he would forget even being at Mustang's place.

So, he'd taken the watch and scratched Mustang's information on the back. Mustang was safe. He knew it, and he wanted to give himself a reminder to return. He had a feeling that Mustang could help him if only he could think of what he needed help with...

A glass was set down in front of him, breaking him away from his thoughts. He glanced up and saw the waitress—Tammie, by the name on her name tag—standing over him. She smiled and said, "I'll be back with your food."

Ed nodded and took a sip from his drink as he watched her wander off to another table near his and begin wiping it off. He eyed her lustfully as he nursed his drink. Her long, reddish hair was held high in a ponytail and it hung over her shoulder, lying slightly on her half-exposed breasts. She looked up and when she caught him staring at her, she winked seductively before heading back behind the bar. His breath quickened and he felt his cock twitch.

"She's not your type, Ed," a voice said suddenly, and he turned to see a man sitting at the table across from him. The man's black hair was combed back and one piece came forward over his glasses. He had a thin beard, but no mustache.

Ed blinked once, then again. The man looked vaguely familiar, but... Ed turned his head and eyed the man suspiciously. Was he real? He looked real, but Ed knew that didn't always count for much. He was skeptical that the man was actually there because there had been no one there a moment before.

Suddenly it was as if something clicked in his head and all the doubts and suspicions vanished as if they hadn't been there in the first place, which of course, to Ed's mind they hadn't...

"Hughes! What are you doing here?" It had been so long since he'd seen the man! He felt an itch at the back of his mind that told him to be careful, to not trust him, to keep a hold on what little reality he knew was true and not to slip back into the darkness, but it was no use. This was Hughes! There was no need to worry about him!

"Why do you think?" the man said, and Ed's smile slipped slightly at the vague answer. Or maybe it wasn't vague... maybe he was supposed to know why Hughes was here... Ed frantically searched his mind for the answer, but before he could say anything, Hughes pointed at Ed's drink and said, "How'd you pay for that? Doesn't _look_ like you have any money."

Ed glanced down at his ill-kept clothes, then gulped down the rest of the drink nervously. He could feel his mind slipping away, and the fact that he was still aware of it terrified him. Looking back at Hughes, Ed shrugged and looked around for the waitress. When he caught her eye, Ed lifted his glass slightly in silent askance for a refill.

She smiled at him and nodded before heading back behind the bar, grabbing a glass, and filling it. Picking up a plate of food, she started over with both the plate and the glass. Her hips swayed as she walked slowly toward him and all he could think of was how he wanted to drag her into a room, rip off all her clothes, and fuck her until she screamed.

It wasn't just that he wanted to get off, though he did, and right now it wasn't even that he needed someone close to him, which he desperately craved. Right now he wanted to escape the situation he was in; escape from Hughes, escape from the terrifying feeling that in an hour or even in a couple of minutes he could be oblivious to the fact that anything was wrong in the first place...

When she got close, the waitress—Tammie—grinned at him and said, "The state really takes good care of its alchemists, doesn't it?"

"Of course," he said lightly and touched the watch that was lying on the table. That's right. That's how he was paying for this...

Her grin widened; and, as she set the glass and plate on the table, Tammie leaned down and whispered, "I get off in about a half hour." Before Ed could say anything, she stood up, winked at him, and hurried off.

He watched as her ass swayed slightly and sighed longingly. He felt a craving need inside of him that was so strong that if someone else had come up to him and offered to take him out back and fuck, he would have taken them up on it.

"Ah, so you're mooching off the state," Hughes said, breaking his train of thought. Ed glanced back over at the man and frowned. He'd forgotten he was there... Ed's eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to remember what they'd been talking about. At least, he assumed they'd been talking...

"Why are you here?" Ed asked as he began eating his dinner. Had he already asked that question? Was Hughes supposed to be here?

Hughes grinned and glanced over at the waitress. "I still don't think she's your type," he said, obviously ignoring Ed's question.

Ed shrugged and took a drink from the glass. "She wants me to fuck her," he said simply, yet inwardly he was desperately clinging to the only thing that made sense right now.

"Oh, and you're just going to do it as a favor for her?" Hughes asked, amusement threading through his voice.

"Equivalent exchange," Ed muttered and took a long pull from the glass.

"Indeed?" Hughes asked with a smirk.

Ed looked down at the watch, picked it up, and started playing with it. He couldn't help feeling uneasy with this conversation. Something just wasn't right... something about Hughes... something about everything... He turned over the watch and blinked when he saw what was scratched into the surface. What the hell was Roy Mustang's name and address doing on the back of his watch?

"Ed," a voice said, but he paid it no mind. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the back of the watch. This was important. He knew it was... "Ed," the voice said again and he felt a small shiver go through him. How long had it been since he'd reported to Mustang? Ed couldn't remember. Everything was so jumbled. Mustang would probably expect him to turn in something soon...

"Maybe I should go see him..." Ed murmured softly to himself.

"Ed," the voice said, and now it was sounding none too friendly. Looking up, Ed saw a scowl on Hughes's face, but it vanished almost immediately as the man said, "I think your lady friend is clocking out."

Ed frowned and looked over to where Tammie was taking off her apron and talking to the man behind the bar. She had a purse hanging off of one shoulder and she did look like she was getting ready to go. He glanced at Hughes, then blinked before looking closer. He could have sworn there had been a glint of yellow in the man's eyes, but it was gone now...

"Yeah, I think you're right." Ed stuffed the watch in his pocket, then paused. There was something he'd been meaning to do, something important, but... "Did I just say something?" Ed asked Hughes, but the man simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

Ed opened his mouth to say more, when a female voice caught his attention. "You ganna sit at that table all night, or would you like something warmer than what you're drinking?" Ed turned his head and glanced at the waitress before grinning widely.

"I think I'll opt for choice two," he said, then looked at Hughes. "Be seein' you."

He returned his gaze back to Tammie who was giving him a confused look. "Who were you talking to?"

Ed froze and stared at her for a moment. A cold chill tingled through him as he slowly turned his head to look where Hughes had been sitting. There was no one there.

* * *

Ed dragged his tongue wetly along the girl's stomach, making a long line of saliva along her skin. He could see it glistening in the soft glow of the candlelight, but it didn't keep his attention for long as he reached her breasts.

Her nipples were hard and erect, and Ed slid his tongue over one of them before clamping his lips over it and sucking eagerly. She moaned, and he reached down and rubbed the fingers on his real hand over her wet cunt before sliding them up to finger her clit, making her gasp and squirm.

His groin throbbed with need and he decided that he'd had enough foreplay for the night. Releasing her nipple so that he could take in a deep breath, his eyes traveled past her head and over the carpet. His gaze stopped on a pair of black military boots, and he blinked in confusion before sitting and letting his gaze travel up the blue uniform to settle on the face of Maes Hughes. His expression was serious, and his eyes flickered a pale yellow color in the candlelight.

Ed's body tingled and his mouth went dry.

Yellow...

Ed blinked and looked again.

"It's only the candle light..." he whispered to himself. He wasn't sure exactly why he should feel so afraid; after all, shouldn't he feel stranger about Hughes showing up while he was in the middle of trying to get laid?

Hughes stepped forward, and Ed felt the need to shrink back. He moved his legs over the carpet and stumbled over something beneath him. Ed suddenly felt a sense of panic. Something was beneath him?

He looked down and let out a yell when he saw that he was sitting on top of a very naked Maes Hughes. Ed scrambled to get away, but the man grabbed him, and flipped him easily onto his back before climbing on top of him.

"Hello, Ed," Hughes said in a quite voice that gave off no emotion.

Ed shook his head frantically. "No! You're dead!" he shouted, then choked on his own words as he realized it was true. Maes Hughes was dead, yet he'd just had a conversation with him at the bar, and he was sitting on top of him now...

No.

No... this wasn't Hughes at all... and he knew it... Ed's body began to tremble and he tried to squirm away, but the older man held him still.

"You belong to me, Edward..." Hughes said in a soft and slightly dangerous voice. Ed's eyes fixed on Hughes's. The candle light was flickering in the man's eyes, yet there was no shine on his glasses...

It was wrong.

It was all horribly wrong...

"Who are you?" Ed begged in a shaking voice. He knew the answer, it was somewhere in his mind, but he couldn't find it, just like everything else. He knew enough to be afraid, though. Right now, he knew that he should be afraid, even if he didn't know why. At least he had that much.

Hughes reached up and gently caressed Ed's cheek. "Who do I look like to you?" he asked in a low tone.

Ed clenched his teeth together and tried to pull his arms free, but he couldn't. Finally, he looked up at the man and said, "You are _not_ Maes Hughes," Ed spat angrily. The man on top of him scowled in displeasure, then raised his hand and brought it down quickly to backhand Ed hard across the face.

Tears of pain formed in his eyes and he sucked in air between his teeth making a hissing noise, then looked back Hughes. The man was staring intently at him in a way that made Ed think of a hungry wolf or a rabid dog... maybe a bit of both.

"We had a deal, Edward Elric, and you are trying to get out of it," Hughes said in a low voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ed breathed, then tried to squirm desperately out of Hughes's grip.

The man leaned in close and placed small kisses against his chest, then took one of Ed's nipples roughly between his teeth and moved his tongue back and forth over it. Ed's eyes widened and he made an "Ah!" sound of both pleasure and pain. In that moment, his mind went blank and he suddenly couldn't remember why he was so angry. This felt so good, and he needed to be with someone. He was always so lonely...

Lonely?

But _why?_

What about Alphonse?

Ed glanced around, and panted, "Al... Al...?" He felt so confused. Where was he? Where was Al? Panic gripped him and he felt sick to his stomach. What was going on? Where was his brother?

"Edward..." he heard and looked up into Maes Hughes's eyes. "Just give in... Stop fighting it..." Ed gaped, not sure exactly what to say about that. Give into what? What was he fighting? He just couldn't remember...

He moaned in pleasure when Maes began to stroke his erection with long slow strokes. He whimpered with need, and reached out to pull the man close to him. He wanted to feel someone's body next to his; he didn't want to be alone...

_Why am I alone?_ Ed thought vaguely to himself, then his body involuntarily stiffened as he realized who it was who was touching him. But then, he _knew_ that! Didn't he...? Shaking his head from side to side, Ed moaned out, "Nooooooo!" before pushing the man over onto his back.

Quickly taking the mounted position, Ed breathed out angrily, "Stop trying to fuck with me! You know the deal wasn't fair!" _What deal?_ he thought in confusion. Why had he said that? Why was he sitting naked on top of Hughes? Why was Hughes here at all? What the fuck was going on?!

Yet none of those questions made it past the primal fury he was feeling. In a rage, Ed fisted his automail hand and slammed it into the side of Hughes's face. "You are _not_ Hughes!" he shouted angrily, then grabbed the man around the throat and squeezed tightly; choking the air out of him.

Hughes pushed against Ed's body, trying to free himself, but it was no use. Ed's grip tightened and tears began to flow down his cheeks as he shouted, "You're not him! You're not! You're not!" He tightened his grip and squeezed his thighs together to avoid being thrown off the bucking body beneath him. Tears of anger and betrayal trickled unbidden down his face. Hughes would not do this! This was wrong! It was all wrong!

Suddenly, he realized there was no more struggling from the man beneath him, then he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He sobbed in angry frustration. Why was this happening to him? What was going on? Where was Al? Why wasn't he here?

Opening his eyes, Ed gasped sharply as he looked, not into the face of Maes Hughes, but into the shocked, battered, and very dead face of the waitress. In disbelief he shook his head and scrambled off her body. His stomach clenched and Ed thought he was going to throw up.

"No..." he cried, his body shaking violently. What had he done? How could he possibly have mistaken her for Hughes? How could any of this have happened? Feeling a numb, tingling sensation flood through his body, Ed pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head into them.

He felt so afraid and confused. What was _wrong_ with him? Why were these things happening to him? Why couldn't he remember! There was something important that he had to remember, but he just _couldn't!_

Suddenly, there was a small touch on his shoulder. His body flinched in shock and he flailed backward only to look up into the waitress's worried eyes. He blinked in confusion. He was sitting on the floor by the table he'd been at, and she was standing beside him looking down at him with anxious concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, her voice heavy with fear.

"I..." He glanced around the bar and saw that some of the people were staring at him. He could feel the weight of their judgmental thoughts, and he quickly scrambled to his feet before saying, "I'm fine..." He backed away from her with his hands out to wave her away. "I'm fine, really... just... perfectly fine..." When he was far enough away from her, Ed turned around and raced out into the cold, snowy night.

-


	5. Visitor

—

**Forgotten**

**V**

**Visitor**

—  
Roy counted silently to himself as he waited for the light at the intersection to change so he could cross the street. A car drove slowly by and he had to step back a little to avoid being splashed with the dirty slush that covered the roads. It had snowed yesterday and all of last night, and there were many lawns covered with a fresh layer of pristine snow; undisturbed by the world. But the sidewalks and streets had already been trodden on in the morning rush of commuters.

When the light changed, Roy buried his hands deeper in the pockets of his black trench coat and carefully stepped off of the sidewalk onto the road. As he walked, Roy warily glanced around him. There were people walking to work, just as he was, and there were people sitting in their cars, waiting impatiently for the light to change. Life was going on just as it normally had in Central City. Nothing had changed.

He hung his head and stared at the black pavement as he quickened his step. Why should the world move on when his was falling apart? For some reason, it just didn't seem fair; but then, the world was often like that; cold, cruel, and completely unfair...

Stepping up onto the sidewalk, Roy concentrated on the little blue pieces of chemical salt which crunched loudly under his boots, yet this didn't keep his thoughts from prodding at him from the dark recesses of his mind.

He knew what he'd seen and what he'd heard that night in the motel room. He hadn't imagined it... Yet, still it seemed impossible, and Roy wondered if perhaps all the stress was getting to him. Perhaps he was going crazy... Not a very comforting thought, yet it was the only thing he could think of.

After all, what kind of _sane_ person would remove all the mirrors in their house like that? He felt as though he was being completely irrational, but the absence of the mirrors made him feel more at ease.

He shivered, thinking of that night. There _had_ been someone in that mirror. That prostitute really had spoken to him about Ed. He _wasn't_ crazy...

Looking up, Roy realized he'd entered the military grounds, and with the reflective double doors that led into headquarters just ahead, Roy slowed his pace to a hesitant stroll. He'd been through those doors so many times, and yet now when he went through them it was different.

He stopped a few paces away from the door and studied himself—he rarely looked at reflections of himself anymore. His hair was slightly messy given the stiff breeze, but he didn't bother to try smoothing it back. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he looked as if he was huddling within his coat.

Maybe he was...

After all, this was one of the coldest winters Central had witnessed in a very long time. Yet, he knew it wasn't only the weather that was affecting him like that. He glanced over himself again, wondering if his weariness was as obvious to others as it was to him. And if it was, did it really matter?

He kept to himself now. He came to work, did what he needed to, and left. Avoiding everyone was impossible, of course; Roy, at the very least, had to interact with his direct subordinates. Yet they too seemed to want to avoid him when possible, which was fine with him. Seeing the looks of accusation and disbelief in people's eyes was bad enough, but when it was from those who used to trust him so much...

Roy lowered his head, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. He hadn't been able to hide where he'd been for that week and he hadn't been able to hide the reason why—damn the press... When he'd come back to work, everyone had known about it—and really, what defense could he give to counter the rumors except for a firm declaration that he didn't do it. There was none. Oh, he'd tried to convince people at first, yet it did no good and now he didn't even bother.

Really, he just wanted to disappear. He was tired of this ridiculous pretense that his life was going anywhere but downhill. He hated coming into work and often seriously considered quitting the military and finding something else to do with his life.

And why not? With his record, his chances of getting promoted ever again were extremely low. He knew Hakuro didn't believe he hadn't killed that woman; but then, Roy had his suspicions that Hakuro had never believed him when he'd said he hadn't raped his subordinate either...

No, Hakuro didn't believe... no one did. Perhaps it would be best if he ended his career with the military... Or even better, why not stop _all_ the pain and just end his life...? Pulling his hand out of his coat pocket, Roy rubbed roughly at his eyes with his glove-covered hand.

Suicide.

The thought came to him more often of late, and Roy was beginning to entertain the idea seriously. Maes wasn't here to stop him like before. No, Maes was dead, and Roy felt bitter resentment at that. Maes, who'd had something to live for, was dead, and _he_, with his pathetic excuse for a life, was still alive.

How terribly ironic...

Pulling his hand away from his face, Roy glanced up at the reflective doors again, then let out a small, surprised cry when he saw the reflection of a tall young man standing next to his reflection. On instinct, Roy raised his hand, ready to snap and quickly turned to look behind him.

Relief flooded through him when he saw that there actually was someone standing beside him, almost standing far back enough to be standing behind him. The young man didn't seem fazed at all by Roy's surprise. He simply looked Roy up and down with an expectant, yet disinterested, expression.

Roy took a moment to study the stranger in return. He looked to be in his late teens and was dressed in brown slacks and the top of a white, button-up shirt showing behind a long, dark-brown coat. The teen's ears, nose, and cheeks were tinged with pink from the cold and Roy thought it was obvious the young man was cold, yet he did nothing to protect his head from the weather. His sandy-blond hair was combed to one side, and his eyes... his eyes were a light brown, bordering on a wheat-colored yellow. Roy almost wanted to back away, but he felt like he'd seen this face somewhere before and that almost gave him the same eerie feeling as the color of his eyes.

Finally, when the young man said nothing, Roy said slowly, "Can I help you?"

"Roy Mustang," the young man said gravely in a light baritone voice. It wasn't a question. This person knew who he was.

"And you are?" Roy asked warily. He didn't like being at the disadvantage, and in his paranoid state, Roy almost could believe that this person wasn't even real.

The sandy-haired teen stared silently at him for a moment, then demanded in a flat voice, "I want to know where my brother is."

Roy blinked, then frowned. His brother? "And your brother is...?"

The young man's features didn't change. Instead he said, "I know he came to see you. Where is he? You have no right to hide him from me. Even if he told you not to tell me where he is, he's not in his right mind, you have to have noticed that by now. It's best if I take him home with me."

Narrowing his eyes, Roy stared intently at the young man in front of him. The voice sounded somewhat familiar... And those words... 'his brother... not in his right mind...' When it came to him, Roy's head reared back and his eyes opened in shock. This was... No, it couldn't be, could it? Ed would have told him, right? Or maybe... maybe Ed wouldn't. Maybe he would simply disappear...

And suddenly everything made sense.

"Alphonse Elric," Roy said breathlessly. Even though he said the name, he wasn't sure that he believed it. It seemed so _unreal,_ but then a lot of things were seeming unreal to him recently... The young man nodded slowly, but kept his eyes riveted onto Roy's. He was waiting for an answer, but Roy was still too surprised to give him one.

Alphonse Elric... Roy had seen a picture of the boy in the Rockbell home so many years ago, and of course the voice wasn't exactly the same as it had been when his soul had been attached to the armor, but it was close. The voice of Alphonse Elric that Roy had known had been one of a young boy, and it had held a hollow tone that this Alphonse's voice didn't have.

Roy let his eyes travel over Alphonse's face and body. The teenager's features were serious and his body language held none of the ease that he would have imagined from listening to the Alphonse Elric who had been trapped inside of that armor for so long.

Finally, Alphonse said in a low tone, "My brother, Mustang. Where is he?"

Roy frowned at the disrespect and near contempt in Alphonse's voice... There was almost a threatening note as well, which almost made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. The Alphonse he had known had been a kind person and had often bordered on being too polite. This young man...

Slipping his hand back into his pocket, Roy considered Alphonse for a moment before turning and waving him to follow. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside," he said. Not that his office was a lot warmer, given that the heater _still_ wasn't working... Yet, it was better than standing around in the snow.

Opening the door, Roy quickly let himself inside and began walking toward the elevator. He didn't know for sure that Alphonse was following him, but he believed that he was. In fact, it was almost as if he could _feel_ the teen walking behind him, and could feel his eyes riveted on his back.

When he reached the elevator, Roy pushed the button, and glanced back to see that Alphonse had, indeed, followed him and was now looking around the large foyer with a dark expression on his face.

"He was here..." Alphonse muttered quietly under his breath, then glanced at Roy as if he would confirm it. "You're stalling," he said flatly.

"I'm not stalling," Roy denied as the elevator made a 'ping' noise. "I'm tired of being on my feet and I'd like to have this conversation sitting down." This was partially true, but it was also true that he was stalling. _Should_ he tell Alphonse about Ed coming to visit him? Normally, he wouldn't even have to think about it, but with the way the teen was acting...

Roy turned when he heard the doors to the elevator open and a couple of female privates were talking to each other, but when they saw him, they immediately quieted and murmured, "Sir," as they quickly moved out of the elevator. When they were a few steps away, he heard one of the girls say, "That was _him_! I..." but the rest was lost as they moved out of range.

Stepping inside of the elevator, Roy waited for Al to follow, then pushed the button for his floor. He stood there feeling frustrated, depressed, and extremely helpless. There was nothing he could think of that would change anything besides leaving the military, yet he was still there. The military had been his career of choice, and it had been what he'd done since leaving home as a teenager. What would he do if he left? As horrible as the situation was, the thought of starting over was almost just as bad.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the elevator 'pinged' and the doors opened. Stepping out of the elevator, Roy waited for Al to follow before starting down the hall.

"No one told me you'd regained your body," Roy said, trying to ease the tension he felt. When Alphonse didn't answer, Roy glanced at him. "Your brother simply left his watch without telling anyone and disappeared. I had no idea."

"It's none of your business," Alphonse said flatly.

Roy frowned deeply, and said, anger threaded through his voice, "I helped the two of you for years, and you say it's none of my business?"

"Where is my brother?" Alphonse demanded, getting back to why he'd come.

Roy stopped in front of his office, slowly withdrew his keys, and unlocked the door with careful deliberation. "What if I don't want to tell you anything," he said, resting his hand on the knob. "What if I decide that information is none of _your_ business?" Glancing back at Alphonse, Roy saw the dangerous glint in the teen's eyes and he suddenly had the most insane urge to laugh.

Was the young man before him, _really_ Alphonse Elric? Was the young man who had visited him all those weeks ago, _really_ Edward Elric? Maybe Al wasn't even really there. Maybe his mind was imagining this whole thing and perhaps he'd been doing nothing but talking to the air since he'd gotten to headquarters.

Opening the door, Roy shivered a little at the chill in his office and mentally cursed the maintenance crew again before turning and lifting a hand to invite Alphonse inside. The young man didn't move to enter the office, but Roy could see a small shiver pass through the teen.

"He's been here..." Al said softly and his features were suddenly anxious and concerned. "In this office... It's so strong..." Looking over at Roy, Al said in a pleading tone, "Please, Colonel... Where can I find him?" Roy stared at him curiously as he returned his keys to his pocket. _That_ was more like the Alphonse he knew; yet, as welcome as it was to see and hear something more familiar, the sudden change in the teen's demeanor was unnerving...

"Why don't you come inside and—" Roy began, but was cut off.

"No!" Alphonse said firmly and that hard look was back along with something else... Fear? Perhaps a little, but Roy wasn't sure what Alphonse would have to fear. "You'll tell me where Ed is now," the teen demanded forcefully.

"I don't know where he is..." Roy murmured softly as he considered how quickly Alphonse's harsh manner had returned.

"But he's been here," the teen pressed in a beseeching tone that again was like the boy he'd known. Instead of speaking, Roy simply nodded. Al glanced at the room, then backed away slowly. "He'll be back. He'll come back..." He paused, searching Roy's face as if considering something, then whispered, "Back to you..."

"I don't know..." Roy began. "He..."

"He _will_ return, Mustang; and, when he does, you'd better call me and let me know," Alphonse demanded in a threatening tone. Then, without warning, his eyes took on a worried look and he said softly, "Please... Colonel... you don't understand... I _have_ to find him... I'm so worried..."

Roy ran his tongue along the back of his teeth absentmindedly as he thought. Something definitely wasn't right here. There was something _very_ wrong with Alphonse... But then, there had been something wrong with Ed too... What had happened to them?

"Alphonse," Roy said softly. "Can you tell me what's wrong with Ed? Can you tell me..." _what's wrong with you_... "...about how you got your body back?" To this, the young man simply stared at him as if unsure what to say. His face neither held the hard look nor the concerned one, but one of hesitant wariness.

After a few moments of silence, Al's gaze turned to the office and he whispered, "It's so cold..."

"There's a problem with the heater," Roy said simply. "I have a blanket you can use if you'd like to come in."

Suddenly, Alphonse's eyes narrowed and his gaze slid to Roy. "Nothing can protect you from this cold. They know he will come back and they're watching you," he said in a dark tone.

Taking a step forward, Roy said, "Alphonse..." as he reached out to take a hold of the young man's arm, but Alphonse took a quick step back.

"Don't touch me!" Alphonse snapped harshly and knocked Roy's hand away so hard that pain flared and tingled from his pinky finger, through his wrist, and up his arm; and Roy wondered if it was sprained or even broken. Down at the end of the hall a couple of soldiers stopped and stared at them for a moment before glancing at each other and hurrying on. Roy almost sighed at that, sure that some sort of rumor would be started about this...

"Who is watching me?" Roy asked as he held his injured hand to his chest with his other hand, but Al was still backing away from him, now with a look of obvious fear and panic.

"I'm sorry, Colonel..." Al whimpered, and his eyes suddenly shimmered with tears. "I... I wasn't... I didn't mean... I..."

"It's okay, Alphonse," Roy tried to assure him, though he didn't really feel sure about anything right now. "Let's just talk, okay?"

Al continued backing away, but his features took on a wary look before saying in a subdued voice, "I live in Rizembool, at the Rockbell residence. You have the number. Call me if you see him." And with that, Al turned on his heel and ran away.

* * *

Ed wearily glanced at the buildings around him. The weather was bitterly cold yet inside his clothes he felt oddly hot and all he wanted to do was curl up in some corner and go to sleep. He felt light headed and it was only through sheer will that he kept himself from passing out.

Slowly, he pulled out his pocket watch and held it up by the chain before snatching it in his other hand and turning the backside up. He had to blink a couple of times before he could focus on what was scratched into the surface, but finally his vision cleared and he read what was on the back before looking around again. He was close, but not there yet. With an exhausted sigh, Ed stuffed the watch back into his pocket, knowing that in five minutes he'd have to pull it out again to remind himself where he was going.

Ed slowly began trudging through the snow covered sidewalk and thought over and over in his mind that he was going to see Roy Mustang and his address was... It helped him remember—both the address and the fact that he was going to visit Mustang.

This morning he'd felt semi-clear headed, but his mind had started fogging up as the day continued on. Ed had a feeling he was getting sick, and knew that it might be best if he found some place to rest; but something deep inside was driving him to visit Roy Mustang and he couldn't stop until he got there.

Ed knew he'd scratched in the man's name and address on the back of the watch—he had a vague memory of it—yet he couldn't seem to remember _why_ he'd done it. It must have been important... He assumed it was important. Perhaps Mustang could help him find what he was looking for; maybe Mustang actually knew what he was looking for...

Stopping, Ed worked hard to keep his head from dropping and from letting his eyes close. He concentrated on his breathing—on the misty puffs of air that he was exhaling. For a moment, he thought he'd lose his grip on consciousness, but after several deep breaths, Ed stood straight and looked around.

He was standing near a tall apartment building and only about seven to ten paces away was a door that led into the building. It all looked familiar, but... Pulling the watch out, Ed checked again before looking around for the address on the building. When he saw the dull number painted on the building, Ed sighed with relief and sank to his knees. Cold wetness from the snow seeped into the fabric and his right knee instantly felt a deep chill, but he didn't care. He was here.

Ed tried to push himself back onto his feet after a moment, but he didn't have the strength, so he crawled on his hands and knees over to the door before what little energy he had ran out. When his body dropped down into the snow, he didn't even register that it was happening. Somewhere deep inside of him a voice was screaming for him to get up, to continue on, to not give up. That voice was trying to explain that he could _die_ if he stayed in the snow, but Ed didn't care. He was too weak. He couldn't go on. He didn't _want_ to go on.

He was tired of not knowing if tomorrow he would remember everything or if he would be completely clueless of who he was. He just wanted to find what it was that he was looking for and make this hellish nightmare end. He just wanted to be with his family—with Al and his mother—and live a happy life.

He just wanted...


	6. Prevarication

**-**

**Forgotten**

**VI**

**Prevarication**

-  
Ed moaned slightly and tried to block out whoever was calling his name. It wasn't important... The only thing that mattered was getting away from the pain. His body hurt and he was so hot that he wanted to scream, yet he was so cold that he curled tightly in on himself in an unconscious effort to stay warm.

His name was called again and this time he could feel a hand on his forehead, then on his cheek. The hand felt so wonderfully cool against his hot skin and he leaned into the touch, yet the movement increased his awareness of his surroundings and of the horrible, sick feeling coursing though him.

"Edward, come on, wake up," the voice whispered urgently, and he felt the hand pat his face gently.

Moaning, Ed opened his eyes slightly, then shut them tightly at the light. He groaned and tried to turn away from the voice, but hands held him and the voice became more insistent. Opening his eyes again, Ed saw a light-tan colored blob that had black on top. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again and this time his vision was clearer.

A man was leaning over him, his face the light-tan color, and his hair and eyes the deep black. Concern filled the man's features, and he whispered, "I need to get you inside."

_I know you_... Ed thought, but he couldn't quite come up with the name. He desperately searched his mind for the answer. He _knew_ that he knew this man, and he knew that whoever he was, this man was important, but still the information remained hidden. Ed wanted to ask the man who he was, but opening his mouth and speaking took far too much effort, and he couldn't seem to make himself do it.

The man looked at him kindly for a moment, then said, "I'm going to try picking you up, okay?" He waited as if expecting an answer, but when he got none, the man leaned in and wrapped his arms around him.

At the contact, Ed suddenly felt more comfortable. He felt okay—safe. The man stopped and moved his arms so that one was under Ed's back, and the other was under his legs. Again, Ed felt the man try to lift him, and this time he could hear grunts of exertion. Finally, the man moved back and wiped his brow.

"You're a _lot_ heavier than you look..." he said ruefully. "You're going to have to walk. I'll help support you, but I don't think I'm going to be able to carry you." He paused, and looked Ed up and down. "Must be the muscle and that damn automail..." he muttered so quietly that Ed almost didn't hear him.

Moving in again, the man hoisted Ed up to his feet, and this time Ed groaned along with the man. He didn't want to have to walk. He'd rather stay here and go back to sleep. His head spun as he stood up and he nearly doubled over with the waves of nausea that were spreading through him.

"Come on... Inside we go..." the man murmured as he guided Ed toward a door. Ed wasn't sure where the door led, but he supposed that if the man was taking him there, then it must be okay—must be safe.

When the man reached out to open the door, he positioned Ed so that he was leaning heavily against him and Ed almost wanted to wrap his arms around the man and beg him not to leave him. This man was safe. He was sure of it. Safe and important... he _knew_ it, yet he didn't know _why_.

Holding the door open, the man started inching him forward, and Ed's head began to spin. He felt so sick and so dizzy... surely they were almost to their destination... He just needed to lie down...

Glancing through the doorway, Ed saw a long hall with doors on either side and he hoped desperately that they were going into one of the closest of them. Ed stepped through the doorway, then suddenly he lurched and the colors all blended together, then there was darkness. He groaned and lifted his head as he realized that the arms that had been holding him were gone. Looking around, Ed swallowed the bile that had risen to his throat.

Dark.

Everything was dark.

The floor, the walls, even the ceiling, seemed to have disappeared into the inky blackness that surrounded him. The air was musty and had an unnaturally cold dampness that lay thickly on his skin. He breathed in deeply, trying to give his lungs more air.

_Where am I?_ he thought fearfully.

"Are you ready?" someone asked behind him.

Ed turned to see a large, silverish-gray suit of armor standing with its arms folded. There were small circles with lines inside them on the metal and they seemed to give off a faint bluish glow.

He blinked, but the armor remained.

"Are you ready?" he heard again.

"For what?" Ed asked the armor, he could only presume it was the armor talking to him because there was nothing else to be seen. Was it okay to have armor talking to him, or was this wrong? It seemed alright. In fact, it seemed almost natural, though why that could be, Ed didn't know...

The intimidating metal suit unfolded its arms and pointed down. Ed let his eyes follow the invisible line from the armor's finger down to... well, not the floor, because there was no floor... just... down. Where the floor should have been there was another circle, this one much bigger and giving off a deep red glow.

_Was that there before?_ he wondered. Surely he would have seen it...

Another light caught his eyes and he looked down at his body. His coat and shirt were gone, and he was wearing tight, black leather pants with a wide brown belt and heavy black boots. The clothing wasn't what had attracted his attention though. Bringing his hand up, Ed lightly touched his fingers to his chest. He also had circles, with lines inside, drawn on him; but, though these circles gave off a blue light, Ed was close enough to them to see that behind the glow they were actually red. He touched a finger to the circle on his chest and pulled it away to see red on his finger. Whatever they'd used to paint the circles on their bodies was red...

_Transmutation circles..._ The thought flitted through his head, but like dust carried on the wind, it soon vanished and left Ed with a slightly gritty feeling in the back of his mind. He dropped his hand and sighed regretfully. It had been something important, and he hadn't been able to hold onto it...

With tired eyes, Ed brought his gaze back up to the armor and said, "I'm ready." He didn't know if he was or not, since he wasn't sure what they were doing, but it seemed the right thing to say.

The armor nodded and stepped onto the ominous circle. Ed took a step forward, then another, and stopped when he got to the exterior line of the circle. A cold, numb feeling spread through his body as he thought that he'd done this before.

Somewhere...

Sometime...

He'd done this, or at least something close to this.

_I have to do this for Al. _Another thought that came quickly and dissipated into the darkness.

He looked over at the armor as it silently waited for him to continue and Ed couldn't help being slightly mesmerized by the way the red glow reflected off the smooth metal. Reluctantly, Ed tore his eyes way from the wavering gleam and took an unwilling step across the shining, curved line. When his foot connected with the array, a sharp stab of fear pierced his chest, making him gasp softly.

_I must!_ his mind thought again. Ed took another step and felt a dreadful terror fill him. He shivered and took another hesitant step, then another. He felt as if he were walking through water with how difficult it was to continue forward. Finally, feeling almost out of breath, he stood facing the armor in the center of the circle.

"Are you ready?" Ed asked, though why he asked it, he didn't know. The question reverberated loudly around them as if they were in a cave or a tunnel and he swallowed hard, trying to fight off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

In answer, the armor held up its hands, palms facing out, and Ed could see that each one had a circle there as well. He looked down at his own hands and saw the same, though unlike the metal hands extended toward him, Ed's hands were shaking violently in restrained terror.

Slowly, Ed lifted his hands, palms toward the armor, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see whatever was about to happen, he was just too scared.

_For Al..._ another thought from the dark recesses of his mind.

"Al?" Ed asked, wondering who that was.

"Yes?" came the reply, then suddenly hands pressed against his and fingers in twined themselves between his fingers.

But...

Not the thick metal fingers of the armor...

Ed's eyes popped open in surprise and instead of a suit of armor, he saw a teenager of about sixteen or seventeen looking back at him. The other had liquid brown eyes, sandy brownish-blond hair and was slightly taller than him.

He blinked and let his eyes flit this way and that. The darkness was gone, and around him was... he was in a house... in a bedroom... His gaze returned to the teen in front of him and the other's lips turned up into a small smile.

"Brother?" the sandy-haired teen asked quietly.

Ed's forehead crinkled in confusion. _Brother?_

"You said my name."

Ed frowned in thought. Maybe he had said something, but... now it was gone.

"Don't worry," the other teen whispered. "None of that matters. All that matters is now." The brown-eyed teen leaned in close and pressed his lips against Ed's. "I know you know who I am..."

Ed nodded. He did know who this was; really, he did... just... not right now. He couldn't quite place who was in front of him, touching him, kissing him... The other teen's lips pressed softly against his and he felt... need... course through his body.

Not just sexual need, but the most powerful craving to just _be_ with someone else. To be held by them, to have his skin touching theirs, to become one with them. He just felt so empty... Something was missing... Something within him was gone. He could feel it and though being with someone else was a poor substitute for whatever it was, it was still a substitute and he'd take what he could get.

When the other teen pulled away, Ed felt the emptiness grow and was acutely aware that their lips were no longer touching. "Don't leave me..." Ed said urgently, and made a needy grabbing gesture.

The teen tightened his hold on his hands and started at him with a level gaze. Ed swallowed nervously at how different that look was to what had been there only seconds before. "Don't leave _you_?" the teen asked flatly. "It was _you_ who left _me_!" Ed cringed at the anger coming from the teen who had only moments before been so caring and loving toward him.

"Al..." Ed whimpered as he backed up a couple of steps. _Who is Al? This is Al. This isn't Al... Yes it is! _His mind was assaulted with so many conflicting thoughts that Ed instinctively pulled his hands out of the teen's grasp and pressed them to his ears, yet this was no defense against the internal voices.

"Shut up, _Ed_!" the teen snarled, and after one more step backwards, Ed's leg connected with something and he sat heavily on a bed. The sandy-haired teen advanced on him and snapped, "You left me there all that time! I hate you! You deserve to be left in here by yourself!"

Ed's eyes widened at the prospect of being left alone in this place. "No... please..." he cried tearfully. "I don't want to be alone. I... _please_... I don't even know where I am..." And then the thought occurred to him that he really didn't even know _who_ he was either... Desperately he tried to find the information, but all he was able to drudge up was that his name was 'Ed' before the other teen spoke again.

"Maybe if you're good, I'll come back later," the teen said as he walked toward the door. Quickly, Ed got up and made a dash for the door, but it was too late. It slammed shut and Ed was left alone in the room.

"NOO!!" Ed screamed and crumpled to the floor. He doubled over and rested his forehead on the wooden floor as he sobbed heavily. His tears dropped heavily onto the floor and all Ed could do was stare at them until the wood became a brown blur in his vision. He didn't want to be alone. He was so afraid of the emptiness...

There was a creaking sound as the door beside him opened, and he heard a deep voice say, "What is this crying, Edward my son?"

Ed looked up and his eyes rested on a man with a sandy-colored beard and hair. "Daddy..." Ed whimpered, his voice so small and young in his ears. The man bent over and picked him up, and Ed felt so tiny as he was held up in those large hands.

"Such a loud voice for such a little boy," his daddy said kindly, then hugged him close and called out, "Trisha! Our little mouse found a way out of his cage again!" Ed quieted and wrapped his little arms around his daddy's neck, and he could feel a large hand rubbing his back comfortingly. He felt so safe and secure in those hands, and so very protected.

"Daddy..." Ed cried, tightening his grip. He didn't want to be left alone ever again.

"He'll come back..." a tearful female voice whispered in his ear. Pulling back a little, Ed stared into the face of his mother, but she wasn't looking at him; she was looking past him. Turning, Ed saw that she was looking at a door that was slightly ajar and suddenly Ed needed to go see what was beyond the door. He needed to know if his daddy had really gone because he just couldn't believe that his daddy would leave him...

Wiggling out of his mother's grip, Ed hurried over to the door as quickly as he could and pulled it open. As he stepped though the door, Ed fell to his knees and stared down at the carpet beneath him as he worked hard to not begin dry heaving.

"Ed, we need to get you out of those wet clothes and lying down," a male voice said, though it sounded distant, and then his shoulders were grabbed and he was hoisted up by strong hands.

Looking up from where he was held, Ed snarled as Cornello pulled his pocket watch away from his belt, snapping the chain in the process.

"I think you'll be quite harmless now," the priest said, and Ed only had a minute to blink before the man began to change into someone—something—else. _This isn't how it happened..._ a voice said in the back of his mind, but he only barely acknowledged it before forgetting about it completely.

The figure that stood before him was thin, with long, black-green hair, and wearing a black halter top and miniskirt with tight shorts beneath.

"Envy," Ed snarled angrily and tried to free himself from those who held him, but it was of no use.

"Well, hullo short stuff," Envy purred before lifting his leg and kicking him hard in the face. Ed's arms were released and he fell heavily to the floor. Another kick landed in his side, and he barely kept himself from collapsing.

Envy knelt before him and, putting a hand under his chin, lifted Ed's head up to look at him. "That's what I like to see. Cower before me like the worthless being you are."

"Fuck you!" Ed cried and let out a yell as he was backhanded. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip and from his nose, and when he looked back at Envy, the homunculi was grinning manically at him.

"You're so pathetic, you know that?" Envy said, moving closer and reaching under the skirt to pull down the tight shorts that were beneath. "It's time for you to take on your pathetic role in this life, you disgusting slut," he said smoothly while holding onto his now visible erection.

Ed wanted to pull away, but he didn't. The desire to be connected with someone, to be whole, was still with him and he felt sickened that he would allow himself to be used this way by Envy...

"Open wide, you worthless mongrel," Envy spat, then squeezed hard on Ed's cheeks until his mouth opened. Holding tightly onto Ed's head with his other hand, Envy forced himself into Ed's mouth, then brought his other hand up and gripped his head with both hands.

"I'd rather do this to _him_, but since you carry his blood it is almost as satisfying," Envy snarled and bucked his hips quickly. His cock thrust hard into the back of Ed's throat and he gagged, trying to get his breath.

When he almost felt as though he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Envy pulled back a bit and Ed felt hot cum spurting into his mouth. He coughed and choked as the thick liquid trickled down his throat and dribbled from his mouth to his chin, mixing in with the blood from his nose. Swallowing twice, Ed spat onto the ground.

When he saw what he spat out onto the ground, Ed recoiled in horror. Deep red was splattered on the floor. Not blood, no... not blood... liquid Philosopher's Stone... He groaned and curled into himself as his stomach clenched and a wave of nausea washed over him.

Putting one hand out in front of him to steady himself, Ed began to retch violently, and suddenly a small bucket was placed on the floor beneath his face. Again and again he heaved, and was only vaguely aware of a hand rubbing his back and a voice murmuring softly to him. The voice sounded so much like Colonel Mustang's, but there was no way that bastard would be so nice. When he was done, Ed rolled over onto his side and moaned miserably.

"Get up!" Izumi's voice commanded, and when Ed opened his eyes, he saw that he was lying on the lawn in front of his teacher's house. "You can worry about the pain later. Right now you'll get back up and do it again."

Ed nodded and rubbed his stomach one last time, the pain from the blow already beginning to subside, then got to his feet. Pushing himself off the ground, Ed looked up and saw Colonel Mustang at the other side of the arena.

Soldiers from all over Eastern Headquarters had come to see the battle assessment. Some were calling out insults directed at him and some were yelling for the colonel to give back their girlfriends.

He blinked and wondered where Al was. Wasn't Al supposed to be by his side? Ed glanced at Mustang who was now walking purposefully toward him. Ed wanted to look away, but he felt transfixed. There was a slight breeze and it ruffled the man's fine, black hair, and blew back the side skirts on his uniform. Ed felt as though the colonel should have a smug look on his face, but he didn't. His black eyes held a somberness that didn't seem to belong there.

"How long are you going to run?" Mustang asked softly; and, despite the noise of the crowd, Ed heard what he said perfectly.

"As long as I have to," Ed returned steadily. He wasn't sure why he would be running from Mustang, or why he'd even said what he had, but it just seemed right.

"We had a contract, Edward Elric," Mustang whispered flatly, and his voice seemed to echo in the empty stillness of the courtyard.

"You never fully delivered on our first one, so why should I?" Ed snapped angrily, in a moment of pure clarity, and then it was gone and he was left in bewildered confusion. Mustang smirked as if he knew what had just happened in Ed's mind and closed the distance between them. Ed put up his fists and growled, "Stay away..." but Mustang simply grabbed onto his wrists and pulled him close.

The smirk vanished and Mustang said, "Calm down, Ed. I'm trying to help you..."

The light of the day began to fade into a muted and artificial light. Ed felt himself weaken and he sagged into Mustang's arms, unable to hold himself up any further. His body felt hot, yet he was shivering uncontrollably.

"That's more like it..." Mustang murmured as he guided Ed's arms around his neck. "Come on; get back on your feet. We need to get you back to the couch."

Ed shakily put his weight on his legs and stood with a lot of help. He buried his face into Mustang's shoulder, but lifted his head when the man tried to get him to walk. He studied Mustang for a moment, taking in the black eyes and the tired look they held, the pale face, and the black hair streaked with too much white for a man of his age.

_He looks so sad... so lonely..._ Ed thought vaguely. _Just like me..._

"Ed?" Mustang asked, seeing that he was being examined.

_So lonely... _Ed thought; and, yes, he _did_ feel lonely... lonely and empty, but there _was_ something that always helped to fill the void—if only for a short time. Tightening his grip around Mustang's neck, Ed pulled him closer and pushed himself forward. In less than a second, Ed saw the man's eyes go from sad to shocked as their lips pressed together.

Mustang's hands gripped him tighter in a way that Ed was very familiar with, and Ed instinctively knew that Mustang wanted him... Pulling away from the kiss, Ed murmured, "Please... I need—"

"Don't do this to me, Ed," Mustang interrupted weakly. "I'm not a strong man..."

"But..." Ed said, a pleading note to his voice.

"I don't want to hurt you, and this isn't what you want. Not really..." Mustang said in a low tone. Ed swallowed hard because, deep inside of him, he knew that Mustang was right. But he _needed_ it! He was tired of feeling lonely, tired of feeling empty... Ed shook his head, making himself dizzy. He felt so confused... What was wrong with him...?

Wanting to forget all of the confusion, and all of the pain, Ed moved forward again to get another kiss, but Mustang held him back. "_Please_," the man begged. "I don't think we should do this."

"I don't think we should do this," Al begged at the same time, and Ed looked beyond Mustang to where he and his brother were kneeling beside a large transmutation circle where a pile of ingredients lay in a circular pan in the middle of the array.

Ed felt a flash of horror when he realized what was about to happen and was about to stop them when he heard, "Edward..."

_Mother..._ Ed thought. Letting go of whoever it was he was holding onto, Ed turned around then felt his heart stop as he saw a steaming mass of flesh and bones, and in the center were eyes—the eyes of his mother—staring back at him. His breathing quickened and his heat beat erratically in his chest.

"Edward..." he heard his mother's voice say again. "What have you done?!"

A scream clawed its way from his stomach, to his throat, then out of his mouth as he scrambled backward away from the monstrosity they'd created. Random exclamations of denial and horror bounced around inside of his skull.

_It's not real... We did nothing wrong... It's alive... You're not my mother! Alphonse... What have we done?! The equations... I just wanted her back... _

"It's all your fault," Ed heard Alphonse's flat voice say from behind him. Turning, Ed saw his brother—somewhere in his late teen years—looking down at him. "I tried to stop you, but you were too stubborn." Alphonse's voice was hard, and his eyes held a coldness to them that made Ed shiver.

Pushing himself to his feet, Ed swallowed hard and said quietly, "I'm sorry..." He'd said the apology a thousand times, and he'd say it a thousand more if he had to... With a sigh, he bent down and picked up the suitcase he'd packed and said, "I'm still going."

"You can't leave!" Al exclaimed and moved in front of the door, holding his arms wide to bar Ed's way. "Do you even know _why_ you're leaving?"

"Yes..." Ed murmured, tightening his grip on the suitcase handle. "I need to find something."

"What do you need to find?" his brother asked skeptically.

"Something... Something I've lost... Something important..." Ed said in a whisper.

"But, brother, you don't know what it is!" Al was no longer angry. Instead of yelling, he was pleading in almost a whine. "What about when you forget that you're even looking for something, or you forget who you are? It's not safe for you to go wandering off on your own!"

"You could come with me," Ed said simply, then glanced quickly to where Winry was standing half hidden in the hallway, an unreadable look in her eyes. Al wouldn't come, he knew that...

"Ed," Alphonse said firmly, no longer in the pleading tone. "When you remember what it is that you've lost, _then_ we can go look for it. For now, you have to stay here. It's safer."

Swallowing, Ed nodded slowly. It made sense, but he also knew that his brother wasn't telling the whole truth. Al was trying to keep him here... Whatever it was that he'd lost, his brother didn't want him to find it...

Al let out a sigh of relief and, putting an arm around Ed, began leading him away from the front door. "I'll take care of you, brother. You'll see," Al said in a relaxed tone. Ed glanced again to the hallway and saw that Winry was still standing there, a guarded look in her eyes.

Something was wrong...

Was she jealous that he had such a close relationship with his brother? Maybe she wanted more time with Al... But then, Winry wasn't the jealous type, so why...

"Let me take that for you," Al said, taking the suitcase from Ed's hand as he guided him into his bedroom. Ed gave over the suitcase easily and frowned. Why had he been holding a suitcase? Was he going somewhere? Or maybe he'd just come back from someplace... Feeling a little awkward, Ed tried to find out in a roundabout way; though, unfortunately being indirect had never been his strong suit.

"I think I'm a bit tired..." he said, though truthfully he wasn't tired at all. "You know from..." he trailed off and waved a hand in the general direction of the suitcase.

His brother eyed him up and down with a considering gaze, then nodded. "From your trip. Yeah, I bet you're tired." Ah... so he'd been on a trip... He must be tired if he couldn't remember _that_.

Alphonse walked over to him, took his wrist, and guided him toward the bed. "You must have been very lonely while you were gone..." he murmured, wrapping his arms around Ed and pulling him close. Ed nodded and returned the embrace with a fierce one of his own. He was _always_ lonely... It was if he was missing something, but he couldn't remember what it was...

Sitting on the bed, Alphonse looked up at him with a hard gaze and said, "Ed... I've been lonely too..." then moved his hand to his crotch and fondled himself lightly. "I don't want to be lonely anymore... do you?"

Ed shook his head slowly. No... He hated being alone...

Alphonse stretched himself out over the bed, and Ed crawled on the bed in between his legs. He knew what his brother wanted, and he wanted it too... Was it wrong that he wanted this? Was it wrong that he wanted to fill this empty hole inside of him, even if it was with his own brother? Slowly, Ed ran his tongue along the underside of his brother's cock. Was it wrong if they both wanted it? Reaching out his hands, Ed moved them along the inside of Al's thighs as he took as much of Al's cock into his mouth as he could. His turn would come, but for now he would help Alphonse first. That's what older brothers were for—to help their younger siblings...

"Ed..." Hands touched his head, and at the contact, Ed felt compelled to try taking more into his mouth. "Ed! Stop it!" The hands grabbed onto his head and the cock slid wetly from his mouth. Ed looked up and through the darkness he could see a wild-eyed and lust-filled look from a man he didn't know. He should know him, Ed was sure of it. Those obsidian eyes felt so familiar, yet he couldn't place them...

"Ed..." the man pleaded in a breathless and strained tone. "Go back to the couch. _Please!_"

He swallowed hard, then crawled up to the head of the bed and looked down at the man with a hurt and bewildered look. "Do I know you...?" Ed asked quietly, then groaned. He felt sick... like he had a fever or something... and the nausea... it almost overwhelmed him.

The man stared at him in disbelief, then shook his head. "Yes, you know me. I've been taking care of you."

"Oh..." Ed murmured wanting to lay down, but not sure if this man would be okay with him doing so. "What's you're name?" Maybe if he had a name he could remember...

"Damn..." the man muttered, then said in a patient and slow voice, "My name is Roy."

"Roy..." Ed let the name roll of his tongue. It was so familiar, yet actually saying the name felt foreign as if there was another name he should use. He tried hard to figure it out, but when he couldn't, Ed whispered, "I don't want to be alone, Roy."

The man—Roy—ran his fingers through his white-streaked, black hair, then sighed heavily. "Look, Ed... I can't deal with this right now. The last thing I need is people knowing—or even thinking—that I've had sex with you. Not that they would find out if I did or believe me if I said I didn't; but, nonetheless, I'd rather not add more complications to my life."

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, the man laid back down on the bed, letting his head sink wearily into his pillow. "I'll be honest. I _am_ curious about having sex with another man, but..." He paused as if trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "You can't be that man. I just... I wouldn't feel right about it..."

Ed thought about this for a moment, unsure of what it meant, then murmured dejectedly, "I can leave..." He felt as though he would cry. Why didn't this man want him? Was there something wrong with him? Maybe he wasn't worth being with... So alone... So empty... Tears pricked at his eyes and he made to get out of the bed, but Roy grabbed his arm.

"Wait..." came a weary growl. "You can sleep here if you want to..." Roy didn't want Ed to wander off like last time. The kid was sick and, really, it just wasn't safe for him to be out on his own...

Ed crawled under the covers and snuggled up to the man. He rested his head in the crook of Roy's arm and rested his arm across his chest, pressing their bodies close together. Roy sighed heavily. He could push Ed way, but it was obvious that the kid needed some kind of physical closeness; and, truthfully, so did he... so he allowed it.

Closing his eyes, Roy tried to sleep, but it was difficult given the hard on he still had. Suddenly he felt a hand on his groin and his eyes popped open. Ed was fondling him and looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

"Ed..." Roy choked and reached down to push the hand away, but Ed grabbed his hand and quickly climbed on top of him—straddling his hips.

"I know you want this, and I want it... We both need this..." Ed whispered, then rose up a little and scooted back so that he was over Roy's cock.

"Ed, no," Roy protested weakly, and began to sit up when Ed lowered himself onto his erection. Roy moaned and let his head flop back onto the bed. It was so warm and tight... He whimpered, not wanting this to happen, yet needing it at the same time. He grabbed onto Ed's legs and opened his mouth to beg Ed to get off, when the teen began to ride him.

Roy panted heavily as Ed bent over and began rubbing his hands along Roy's chest as he continued to move. "Ed... I... dammit..." he breathed as he felt himself getting oh so close...

"This is what you want, isn't it?" Ed murmured and pinched one of Roy's nipples.

"No!" Roy gasped, but made no move to stop what was happening. His mind wanted to stop this, but his body was in control and it desperately wanted release. He hated himself for being so weak and not in control of himself and his desires.

Ed continued riding him as he bent close. His golden eyes seemed to shine in the darkness and Roy felt terror grip him at the sight of them. He grabbed onto Ed's hips as if that would stop him from leaning closer or perhaps it was an involuntary move on his part because he was so close to release. He felt as though he was losing himself in those eyes and he shook his head back and forth even as he felt his body begin to enter the point of no return.

"Edward Elric is _mine_..." Ed hissed, then raised his automail hand, which was no longer a hand, but the blade that Ed favored so much when fighting. The metallic weapon gleamed dully in the dim room from an unknown light source.

Roy gasped as his body climaxed and also at the fact that the sharp blade was descending down toward him. The pleasure exploding at his groin made him see stars, which hid the oncoming blade from view, and at the same moment it seemed as if he was swallowed up in the yellow of Ed's eyes before the world turned black.

With a jolt, Roy's eyes popped open and he reflexively began to sit up, but something was lying on his arm and keeping him down. With heavy breaths, Roy glanced over and saw that Ed was curled up next to him, fast asleep, and laying on his shoulder. One of the boy's arms was draped over Roy's chest and nowhere near his groin.

Confusion filled him as he took in everything at once. Ed was lying next to him, not riding him or trying to kill him, and he'd just cum in his boxers from a wet dream that had been anything but pleasant. Ignoring the wetness at his groin, Roy turned on his side a little and pulled Ed close. His whole body was sweating and shaking, and he felt desperate for the comfort another person could bring; even if the other person didn't know they were providing comfort.

_It was just a dream_, he tried to tell himself, but his irrational fear urged him to hold Ed tightly as if the teen would be able to protect him from his dark memories. Yet, he knew that if it came down to it, Ed wouldn't even be able to protect himself. _He_ would be the one protecting Ed, not the other way around.

The dream swirled in his thoughts, and welcomed in a host of other unpleasant thoughts and memories; yet, through all of it, the question of who Ed belonged to wouldn't leave him. Who was it that wanted Ed, and why?

Roy tightened his grip on Ed and in a fiercely protective thought, decided that he would protect Ed from whomever it was that wanted him. He'd helped Ed all those years, and he would continue to help him now. Besides, it wasn't as if he had anything to lose, not really. His career was going down the drain, his life was a mess, and he felt as though he was losing his mind.

He slowly rubbed his hand over Ed's back and thought wryly that if he lost his sanity, at least he wouldn't be alone in that. With a yawn, Roy tried to push all of the thoughts out of his mind so that he could sleep, but it was a long time before he was able to doze off; and even then, it was a fitful sleep filled with all of his frustrations at the present, and the horrible mistakes he'd made in the past.

* * *

**Comments are always welcome. **


	7. Corporeality

—

**Forgotten**

**VII**

**Corporeality**

—  
With eyes closed, Ed's mind slowly clawed its way to awareness. He was in a bed—he could feel the sheets below his body and the warm blanket covering him—and he was also sleeping with someone. The air around him was cold and he breathed it in deeply before slowly exhaling. He could smell the person... The scent was familiar and it made him feel a little nostalgic, like going through old pictures or clothing that had been put away years before. Yet... he wasn't sure _why_ he should be feeling this way. He had no idea who this person was...

Of course, not knowing was easily fixed. All he needed to do was open his eyes; but still he kept them closed. Ed was afraid that if he opened them, then whoever it was would be gone. He shivered slightly. He didn't want to be alone, but was it better to be with a person you didn't know? Perhaps it was. Right now he felt so warm and wistful... so...

Safe.

Ed burrowed deeper into the blankets and closer to whomever was lying beside him.

Warm...

He felt warm, and that wasn't always an easy thing. Far too often, Ed found himself feeling cold as well as lonely and fearful. He breathed the chilly air in again, then snuggled a little more into the warmth of the blankets.

Suddenly the person shifted and Ed could feel them begin to move away. Frantically, Ed reached out and grabbed onto the person. He didn't want to be alone... There was a sigh, then a soft, male voice said, "I'm just going to go take a shower."

Ed swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat. The voice sounded so familiar that he couldn't help but trust it; yet he couldn't place where he'd heard it before, and so he doubted those feelings of trust. "Please..." Ed whimpered fearfully. "Don't leave me..." He didn't want to be alone...

"I'm not," the person said in a tone that Ed thought was supposed to be comforting. "I'm just going down the hall to shower. I haven't taken one in the past few days since I took you in. I've been taking care of you the whole time. Now that your fever has broken, and you've sweated all over me, I _really_ need a shower." Ed heard the person mumble something about getting into something clean and about dreams, but he couldn't hear it all, so dismissed it.

The person moved again and Ed tightened his grip. "Ed..." Despite the calm and quiet tone, there was also a note of frustration

He swallowed, feeling nervous and fearful. The person was irritated with him... Forcing his eyes open, Ed blinked several times at the muted light of the room, then his gaze focused on the person he had a hold of. The person was a man, though Ed supposed he could have gotten that from the voice. He looked the man up and down, trying to take his features in all at once. The man was wearing a loose-fitting, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose pants—sleepwear, Ed figured. The man's short, straight hair was black, but was streaked with white. Shadowy circles hung low under dark, tired-looking eyes, and his skin was a light tan color.

He had a hold of the man's shirt, but the man was gently trying to pry his hand off. "I'll just be down the hall..." Ed tightened his grip, unwilling to give up the shirt without a fight. The man looked at him, pressed his lips together, then let his hand go limp on top of Ed's. He gave a tired, and almost defeated, look before saying quietly, "You can sit in there while I shower if it makes you feel better."

Ed thought about that for only a moment before nodding his approval at the idea. Yes, that actually did make him feel better. Letting go of the man's shirt, Ed slid out of the bed and began following him to the bathroom, all the while wondering why the man seemed so familiar. They'd slept in the same bed, so they must know each other, but Ed couldn't recall this man in his memories at all.

Was he someone special?

He studied the man's back carefully. Were they family? Was this man related? A father... or an older brother...? No, that didn't seem right, yet he thought that perhaps he and this man were something _more_... that perhaps they were... lovers...? Well, that really didn't seem to fit either, but the idea wasn't exactly unpleasant, and a lover wouldn't leave him alone... or at least, that was what Ed hoped.

They moved into a bathroom and he turned to see the man shutting the door. "Um..." Ed murmured softly. Would the man be offended that Ed had forgotten who he was? Maybe he shouldn't ask. Maybe he should just pretend to know what was going on until it all came back to him...

"Roy," the man said, breaking into Ed's thoughts.

"Roy?" Ed asked, confused. He stared at the man's back and watched as he pulled off his shirt, then turned around to face him.

"My name; it's Roy. You were about to ask me who I was, right?" Ed blinked in surprise and, unable to speak, nodded slowly. The man—Roy—turned to face him and smiled a small smile. "It's the question I've gotten most from you these past few days. I hope now that you're feeling better, you'll remember it a little longer." Throwing the shirt onto the floor, Roy pulled off his bottoms and turned on the water. He put his hand in the water and frowned deeply, then turned the temperature knob far to the right before checking the water again. There was a small groan, then a sigh of resignation before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain.

Ed stood there feeling unsure and ill at ease. What should he do now? He looked around the bathroom. It was small and sparsely furnished, containing mostly the necessities, and for some odd reason the mirror was missing—though this actually made him feel more relieved than concerned. Just the thought of a mirror made him shiver, though he couldn't imagine why that would be.

Turning, he looked at the door for a moment. What was behind that door? Should he open it? Reaching out his hand, Ed was about to grab onto the doorknob, when he heard Roy say, "Stay. You wanted to be in here, remember?"

_Oh, yes, that's right..._ Ed thought. Nodding to himself and turning away from the door, he eyed the small room again. Something wasn't right... There was something... _wrong_... His eyes rested on the shower curtain for a moment before he realized what it was.

The room was cold.

It had been cold when they'd come in, but one would think the small room would warm up a little with the heat from the shower; that the room would become foggy and damp. Frowning, Ed walked to the shower, stuck his head and hand in, and felt the water.

It was freezing cold.

Roy had stopped his vigorous washing long enough to look at him and snap roughly, "What the... Go sit down!" Ed, feeling a bit unnerved at the tone, withdrew quickly from the shower and sat down on the floor next to the wall. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he stared dully at the light brown—and very cheap-looking—wooden cabinets in front of him. He followed the lines in the wood with his eyes; and that, along with the sound of the water, lulled him into a slightly hypnotic state. Resting his head on his knees, Ed closed his eyes, and soon was fast asleep.

* * *

Shivering violently, Roy quickly grabbed the knob and turned off the cold water before moving the shower curtain aside and grabbing the towel from the rack. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of the cold. It seemed to be seeping into his soul; sapping his strength and draining his life away.

As he dried himself, Roy's eyes fell on Ed's sleeping form and he wondered what he was going to do with his young houseguest. He hadn't let Ed come into the bathroom with him because he'd wanted to. It had been the look in Ed's eyes; the fear and the desperation... Roy hadn't been able to say no—hadn't had the heart.

Of course, he'd realized almost immediately after that it was in his best interest to have Ed accompany him anyway. It was better to keep an eye on him. Roy didn't want Ed wandering off while he was in the shower. For one, Ed still wasn't well enough, and for another, he was determined to find out what was wrong with him and help if he could.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Roy took a moment to rub briskly at his cold arms with his hands, before stepping over to Ed and nudging the teen with his toe. "Come on. Wake up," he said. As he unlocked and opened the door, Roy wondered if he should make Ed take a shower too, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. The water was much too cold for someone just barely recovering from being so sick.

Ed groaned a little and looked up with a confused and tired look on his face. He squinted and his lips turned down into a puzzled frown. "Who are you?"

Roy moved his tongue along the back of his teeth in an effort to be patient, but it was hard to do when someone couldn't remember who you were from one moment to another. "I'm Roy Mustang," he said and waited to see if there would be any flash of recognition in Ed's eyes. Not that he was expecting any, but it didn't hurt to hope.

Ed stared silently at him and Roy could almost see the gears moving behind Ed's eyes, yet no comprehension dawned on his features. "I... still don't really know who you are..." Ed said, looking him up and down and blushing a little before glancing down at the floor. "And... where am I?"

Leaning against the counter, Roy tapped his foot as he thought. There was a chance that whatever he bothered explaining to Ed would be forgotten in five minutes, but then there was the possibility that this time Ed would remember...

Taking a deep breath, Roy said, "Like I said, I'm Roy Mustang. You're in my apartment. You've been staying here for the past few days."

"Why?" Ed asked. He looked up at Roy only to get embarrassed again and averted his gaze.

"You've been ill; very ill," Roy said, then ran a hand through his damp hair and murmured, "Let's go to the bedroom so that I can get dressed." He wanted Ed's full attention and right now the boy was being too demure to concentrate. It was almost amusing in a way, given how sometimes Ed was so... needy...

After leaving the bathroom and going into the bedroom, he directed Ed to sit on the bed, then quickly dressed. It was cold enough in his apartment that he put on winter pants and a heavy sweater before coming to sit beside Ed. Grabbing one of the blankets, Roy shrugged it over himself, then over Ed, and scooted closer to him so that their sides were pressed against each other. The teen looked up at him in surprise, but he didn't reject the nearness. Instead, he snuggled close and let Roy drape an arm over his shoulders.

Not that Roy had expected to be rejected. If he'd learned one thing over the past few days, it was that no matter how forgetful Ed was, he still craved physical contact. It actually made him feel sad and a little depressed. Ed had no idea who he was with, yet he was willing to allow the closeness. Roy wondered how many times Ed had been taken advantage of in this state. He knew that at other times, Ed acted promiscuous and was very forward; yet right now, Ed wasn't like that at all. He was like a small child, desperately craving the warmth of another human being, and taking it wherever and from whomever it was offered...

"Do you remember what I told you earlier?" Roy asked in a soft, slow voice.

Ed was silent for a moment, then said, "You're Roy and this is your place... and... I was sick..." He frowned. "Am I... missing anything?"

"No," Roy assured, feeling a little pleased that Ed still remembered, then said gently, "Do you know who you are?"

"Edward Elric... duh..." The last seemed to be added out of subconscious habit, not out of any real contempt, and his answer sounded unsure. Ed looked to Roy as if seeking a confirmation, and when Roy nodded, Ed gave a relieved smile.

"You used to be in the military, do you remember that?" Roy asked, and the silent and worried look Ed gave him was enough to verify that he had no memory of it. "Well, you were, and I was your commanding officer. That's how you know me, alright?" Ed seemed to take this in, then nodded slowly. Roy wasn't sure if this was an affirmation or if it was simply an acknowledgement of what he'd said, but it didn't really matter anyway.

"But..." Ed said in a small voice. "What about Al? Where is he? Is he staying here too?"

Roy frowned deeply, then said, "No. Your brother isn't here, but don't worry, he's okay." Or as okay as could be expected, Roy supposed. And, in any case, Roy would be seeing Alphonse soon... very soon...

It was something that he'd decided while he'd cared for Ed. He would help him if he could. To do that he needed answers, something Ed didn't have, but Roy had a feeling Alphonse did. The plan was simple, in a way. He would leave Ed here while he went to Rizembool to confront Al, then he would come back and, hopefully, help Ed with the information he'd get.

Unfortunately, leaving Ed alone was a problem for several reasons, the top two being that Roy never knew one moment to another if Ed would be capable of actually taking care of himself and if he would stay put. His first preference would be to take Ed to Rizembool with him, but considering the circumstances, that seemed to be a very bad idea.

They sat there in silence for a long time as he held Ed close. It felt strange. He would have never believed it if someone would have told him that one day he'd be sitting on his bed, wrapped up in a blanket, and, more or less, snuggling with Edward Elric. Or rather, that he would be letting Ed snuggle up to him. The idea was ludicrous, yet after all that he'd been through recently, this was just another drop out of the sanity bucket for him.

Finally, Roy said, "I'm going to go away for a couple of days..." but that was as far as he got before Ed gripped him tightly and began to wail pitifully.

"No! You can't leave me! I'll be all alone! Please... Please don't go! I can't stand the loneliness!" The desperate despair in the teen's voice made Roy's insides clench with guilt. It was hard to be firm when Ed's misery was so childlike and naive.

"Ed!" Roy said firmly and tried to pry him off so that he could look at him, but the boy wouldn't let go.

"Roy, please don't leave me!" Ed bawled frantically. "Let me go with you! I won't get in your way; just let me come, please! I don't want to be left alone again! Everyone always leaves me!"

Roy grabbed onto Ed's shoulders, and said loudly, "Who, Ed? Who is everyone?" Maybe he could get Ed to remember something...

"I don't know!" Ed snarled furiously. "_Everyone_! Al... my mother... my father... I can't remember!" He let go of Roy, grabbed onto his head, and fell onto the floor where he curled up into a ball. "Help me!" he shouted desperately. "Help me! Don't leave me here!"

Great sobs were beginning to wrack Ed's body, and Roy moved to the floor to try calming him down. "It's so cold here! I don't want to be here anymore! Please... Please don't leave me! I don't want to be alone here anymore!"

Roy grabbed onto Ed and pulled him close. "Ed, I'm going to help you. Calm down."

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me alone! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please!" Ed continued to howl.

"Shhhhh..." Roy soothed, petting Ed's greasy hair. He hadn't expected such a violent reaction and was at a loss of how to deal with it, so he held him tightly and tried to soothe him. After some time, Roy didn't know how long, Ed finally calmed down and, after much moaning and sniffling, fell into an exhausted sleep.

Roy envied Ed in a way. Being the aware and responsible one was exhausting both physically and mentally; and, in the state he was in, the idea of being the one taken care of was almost desirable.

Almost...

He moved a lock of Ed's bangs out of his face and stared tiredly at the blotchy red of Ed's damp skin and the puffiness around his eyes...

_What happened to you...?_ Roy wondered. _What happened to Al? What is happening now?_ _What is it that Al believes is hunting you? And for what purpose? Why does it, or they, or whatever, believe I'm important, that you will come back to me? _Roy tightened his hold and sighed. _And why is it true? _

* * *

Roy shivered violently in his thick clothing and heavy, military-issue coat. Rizembool was bitterly cold this time of year. The sharp wind bit painfully at the parts of his face that were exposed; and, despite the layers of clothing, he could feel the pants above his leather boots becoming wet from the snow.

The last time he'd visited Rizembool alone had been in the middle of a rainstorm, but that had been nothing compared to the nearly two feet (1) of snow he was wading in at the moment and the furious snowflakes billowing around him.

He looked up and squinted through the blizzard to see a large yellow house not too far from him. The Rockbell home, though easy to find, was quite a ways away from the train station, and Roy was looking forward to being inside; even if he wasn't looking forward to seeing the people who lived there.

Lowering his head, Roy forced himself to continue on. The sooner he had this done, then the sooner he could get back on the train. He wanted to be back in Central as quickly as possible.

He'd left Ed alone in his apartment, putting signs on the few windows he had, on all the doors—especially on the front door, telling Ed that he was to stay in the apartment. Roy had left notes lying around explaining why he was gone, and why Ed was there. He didn't know if it would work, but it was the best he could do without physically chaining Ed up; and there was no way he'd do that.

Roy stopped when the toe of his boot connected to a stone step, then tiredly looked up. He groaned a little, knowing that he still need to climb the stairs to the porch. He exhaled, bending over a little to catch his breath and prepare his already exhausted body for this last little stretch.

Forcing himself onward, Roy climbed the steps and crossed the veranda to the front door. His heart beat quickly inside his chest from nervousness, but he composed himself. The last thing he wanted anyone to know was that he was anxious. Reaching up, Roy quickly rapped on the door with the knocker. He heard a dog bark from inside and then footsteps before the door opened a little and he saw an attractive young woman with blonde hair looking at him in surprise.

Facing Winry Rockbell was almost as hard as his impending meeting with Alphonse Elric. The guilt of killing her parents still weighed heavily on him and whenever she looked at him, Roy imagined he could see hurt accusation in her eyes.

She frowned deeply before slowly saying, "Colonel Mustang..." She didn't sound happy to see him. He didn't blame her...

Roy inclined his head a little and murmured, "Miss Rockbell..." There was a long moment of silence between them before Roy continued. His body was screaming at him to go inside so that it could thaw out; but his mind, understanding the situation, was more hesitant. Finally, he said, "I'm here to see Alphonse. May I come inside?" Winry eyed him silently; seemingly trying to decide. It would be only too easy to slam the door in his face, and maybe that's what she really wanted to do, but that would also be a little inhumane given the current weather conditions.

After a few moments, Winry stepped back and pulled the door wide. She would have pity on him, and show him kindness despite her dislike—it made him feel even guiltier. But guilt didn't stop him from coming inside. The heat of the house instantly attached to his frigid skin and he could feel little tingles as it began to unthaw. She shut the door, then pointed to a coat rack.

"You can leave your coat and hat there," she said mildly, her voice only slightly betraying her displeasure at his presence. Nodding, he removed his hat, then slid out of the heavy winter coat and hung them both on the hooks of the heavy wooden coat rack. When he turned back, Roy was surprised to see her still standing there. He'd expected she would go and get Al.

Again the two stared at each other, and finally Winry asked quietly, "Are you sure you want to see him...?"

He frowned.

Her eyes held... fear.

She had an uncertainty about her that caused a shiver to run up his spine. Winry Rockbell wasn't one to be uncertain. Was it him or Alphonse that she was afraid of? Why would she be afraid of Alphonse? In a way, it was a stupid question. He'd seen Al and he knew there was definitely something off with him. But he'd thought at least part of that had to do with the probability of Al not liking him.

He stepped close to her and whispered, "What's wrong? Why are you afraid?"

Winry's eyes widened a little. "I don't know what you mean..." she breathed, the lie obvious in her voice.

"I think you do," he murmured. Not that he expected her to tell him anything. She'd never made it a secret that she didn't like him.

She looked around in quick, nervous motions, then lowered her head and began threading and unthreading her fingers together. "I..." she began, then stopped when heavy foot falls sounded down the hall.

"Winry?" Alphonse's voice sounded a moment before he walked into the entryway. His tone was sharp and displeasure was threaded through his voice. She flinched and her shoulders rounded a little. Roy glanced from Winry to Alphonse with a frown. Alphonse was staring at her with a displeased look on his face. It was a hard look, one that fit his tone perfectly. His eyes slid easily up to meet Roy's. "You've seen Ed since we last talked. I can tell," he said flatly.

"There is always that possibility," Roy said noncommittally. He watched Alphonse closely and didn't miss the slight change in his demeanor or the softening in his eyes.

"Will you tell me where he is?" Al asked in a pleading voice. Winry raised her head and stared at Al for a moment, and Roy had a sudden feeling that she seemed to think it was safe for the moment.

"I'll leave you two alone to talk..." she said, before quickly making her escape.

Al glanced at her with a look that plainly said he was worried about her, then looked back at Roy. "Please, Colonel," he said again.

"The last time I saw him, he was doing well," Roy said in an effort to appease this part of Al who was obviously beside himself with worry. The relief that filled Al's face quickly changed into a scowl.

"If you won't tell me where he is, then we have nothing to talk about," Alphonse said coldly before turning and leaving the entrance way.

Roy followed him and said, "I think we _do_ have something to talk about, Alphonse."

Al quickly turned and entered a room; Al's room, Roy guessed as he followed him in. There was a bed, a desk, and several bookcases filled with books. Books and papers were piled on the desk, and the floor was littered with small piles of books.

Alphonse stopped and turned to face him. "Get out," he hissed angrily. "I didn't say you could come in here.

"We need to talk about Ed," Roy said quietly.

Alphonse's face contorted with rage, and he demanded, "Why are you hiding him from me?!"

"Why do you want to find him so badly?" Roy countered in the same soft voice.

"Because I'm trying to help him!" Al said, his voice changing once again to the plea Roy would have expected from the teen.

Roy shook his head. "Perhaps that's one reason, but what's the other one?" He truly believed that Al did want to help his brother, but he only believed that of the part of Al who acted the way he remembered him being. The new Alphonse—the angry and cold young man—he didn't believe that of.

Al stared at him and the look in his eyes changed from pleading to wrath before he spat, "What do you know?!"

"I know that you're not the person I remember, and I know that Winry is afraid of you. I don't believe that your intentions toward Ed are entirely good. You're hiding behind the excuse that you want to help Ed. I want to know the truth."

"The truth!?" Al repeated incredulously, and Roy frowned when the teen began to laugh. The sound held a hint of madness to it, which was only more pronounced when Alphonse stopped laughing without warning and stared at him with a flat gaze. "You want to know the truth, do you?" Alphonse fixed him with a haunted look. "I know the truth... I know it well. I lived with the truth for many years. Let me tell you about the truth. The truth is cold. The truth is cruel. And most of all, the truth is unfair."

Roy stared at him fixedly for a moment, trying to make sense of what Al had just told him, then said, "You're mad." It was the only explanation. Alphonse had lost his mind and was residing in pure lunacy.

Alphonse raised an eyebrow. "You think so?" he asked blandly. "I think _you_ are the one who's mad. I know all the answers. I know what's going on. I know the truth... You, on the other hand, know nothing, and you're trying to help someone who doesn't even deserve it." With the last words, Alphonse's eyes crinkled as if he was in pain. Obviously he hadn't meant to say what he had.

"Why doesn't Ed deserve help?" Roy asked slowly. He finally felt like he was getting some answers, and he didn't want to let them slip away.

"Because," Alphonse spat, "he left me there." His voice rose in anguished fury. "He left me there to rot away! He left me to die! I was there all those years! He deserves everything that he's getting right now, _everything_!"

"What are you talking about? The two of you have always been together," Roy said, trying to comprehend, but not succeeding.

Alphonse turned and savagely swept a pile of books and papers off his desk and onto the floor. "NO WE WEREN'T!!" he screamed, and when he looked up, Roy could see angry tears filling his eyes. "You don't understand!" Alphonse whispered harshly. "You don't know anything!"

"You're right. I don't," Roy said cautiously. "But I will if you tell me."

Al grabbed a couple books from a bookcase and hurled them across the room. "That's what I think of alchemy!" he raged. "I wish I'd never heard of it. I wish I'd never let him talk me into trying to bring her back! He never knew when to leave well enough alone! He should have just let me go!"

More books were thrown across the room followed by a savage kick to one of the piles. Roy watched as Alphonse stood there heaving and panting, then finally the teen said angrily, but in more control of himself, "The Alphonse you knew, that was me." He paused and looked up before saying raggedly, "But it wasn't me."

Roy blinked, but before he could comment on that, Al was already speaking again. "It was only partially me. My soul was ripped from my body when Ed tried to get me back the first time, or at least... most of it. There was still a small part left in my body. That was_ me_." The last word was emphasized by Alphonse poking a finger at his own chest.

"I was stuck there all those years; waiting at the entrance of hell. It was a never ending nightmare," Alphonse hissed, then a tear trickled down his cheek, though Roy didn't think the teen even noticed it. "Sometimes I didn't know what was going on, or where I was. I was so scared, so lost. All I wanted was for someone to hold me. My whole body ached from the loneliness... I felt so cut off, as if something was missing, but I didn't know what..." His voice trailed off and a heavy sob broke from him as he wrapped his arms around his body. "It was so cold there..."

Roy simply stared, not sure what to do or say. From what he'd gathered, that was exactly what was happening with Ed... Yet, if Al knew what Ed was going through, then why would it seem that he wished ill on Ed? It was then that Al's previous words came back to him.

'_He left me there to rot away! He left me to die! I was there all those years! He deserves everything that he's getting right now, _everything_!' _

"I don't think Ed meant for it to happen that way," Roy said slowly. "He would never just leave you anywhere."

"I know!" Al wailed and the change in the teen's voice made Roy want to sag with relief. He liked this Al better than the new one. "I know he wouldn't! He had no way of knowing! I keep telling myself that, but..." Al fell to his knees and his body wracked with heavy sobs, making his next words almost indistinguishable.

"I always felt like something was missing, but I'd just assumed it was me missing my body! I had no idea that my soul wasn't complete! I didn't know until we went back and I was restored, you have to believe me, Colonel!"

Roy took a deep breath, then moved over and knelt down beside the teen. "I know..." he said softly, and rested a hand on Al's shoulder. It was instantly thrown aside as Alphonse told him to fuck off.

"I'm sorry!" Al cried instantly, sounding horrified by his actions and words.

"It's alright," Roy murmured.

Al shook his head. "No, it's not! It's _not_ alright! I left him there! When he restored me, the price was for his complete soul to stay there, but he just doesn't know when to leave well enough alone!" Al's voice had shifted again halfway through, and now anger replaced regret. "He thought he'd be _smart_ and only leave _part_ of his soul there, and now he's in the same situation I was—only... slightly different... reversed..."

Roy took in a quick breath. That would definitely explain what was going on with Ed... "He deserves it..." Alphonse whispered angrily, then grabbed his head and shook it from side to side. "No, he doesn't! Yes, he does! No... Yes... No..." Al trailed off and looked up at him then with eyes full of confusion, pain, and anger.

At that moment, Roy felt very tired and very old. He knew, deep inside, that this wasn't his problem. He could simply get up, go back to the train station, go home, and give Ed over to the world. No one would know and no one would care. After all, Roy already had plenty of problems of his own to deal with, why should he take on anymore?

But he'd already decided that he'd help Ed, and why not try to help Al too? After all, if he could finish what he'd started with these boys, then maybe he could call his life quits and still feel like he'd accomplished something worthwhile.

"Alphonse..." Roy said softly, and this time when he put his hand on the teen's shoulder, it stayed there. "I know there is nothing I can say to make your pain go away. I'm sure right now you're hurt and angry, and you're also still trying to deal with those two parts of yourself being put together again."

Roy shifted his weight. He hoped he was saying the right thing, hoped that he was understanding everything correctly... "You're not just divided by your experiences; you're divided by both love and hate. You love your brother—he's done so much for you; yet you hate him because of the time you spent alone without him. You think he deserves what he's gotten, but you hate yourself for not doing anything to help him."

A small sniffle came from Al and the teen lowered his head to the floor, but still Roy didn't break the contact he had with him. "I think that you _can_ find peace, but you have to want it. Part of you has to forgive Ed for not being there for you; part of you has to forgive yourself for leaving him to his fate. Until that happens, you're always going to be at odds with yourself..."

He trailed off for a moment, then continued in almost a near whisper, "And Ed... he has to forgive too. He has to forgive himself, both for what happened with your mother's transmutation, and for not bringing you back properly." He paused, then said, "It wouldn't surprise me if Ed had chosen to do what he did, not because he was trying to get out of paying whatever price was required, but because he felt he deserved it..."

At those words, Al flinched, almost guiltily, then nodded. "You're... your right... you..." He couldn't tell which part of Al was speaking here, though maybe it was both... He sat up and hunched his shoulders. "I _know_ all of that, but... I still feel angry..." he whispered. "I don't know how to make myself not be hurt and angry..."

"But you know I'm right," Roy pressed. Outward acknowledgement was important. It was harder to be in denial about something you spoke out loud.

Minutes passed and finally Al said quietly, "Yes... I know."

"You'll figure it out, then. You have good people here that will help you if you let them."

"But, I don't even know where to start... I... I can't undo all that I've done, and..." His voice became even softer. "And I can't imagine how anyone could help me feel differently... I don't know what to do..."

"Start by helping me help him," Roy suggested. One step at a time. Al was on the right track. He hadn't arrived yet, but at least he was starting down the right road.

Al gazed at him pitifully. "He told me not to come for him; told me not to sacrifice anything else..."

"I'm not you," Roy said simply.

"You still don't understand..." Al said, his voice lowered. "Even if you can help him, you'll have to pay a price, and the cost is always high."

Roy looked down at the floor and away from Alphonse's piercing gaze. "No, it's _you_ who doesn't understand, Alphonse. I don't have anything left to lose."

"You could lose limbs, your memory, your _life_," Al said, trying to stress how dangerous it was.

"None of those things really matter to me anymore." Roy shook his head, still staring at the floor. "The only thing I have left is who I am and who I was. If I lose limbs, people will still look at me and remember what I did in the past and who I was. The same if I lose my memory. I'll be different, but people will still see me and know who I was before that. If I die... well, then they can remember me..."

He looked up at Al and met his eyes. "Don't you see? If I suddenly died right now, that wouldn't take away the memories you have of me, of who I am. No one can take away my _identity_, and that's all I have left."

Standing, Roy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I used to care about my career, but it's in ruins. I used to care about my reputation, but it's been shot to hell." He swallowed, then said in a voice that was too broken for his own liking, "I have nothing to lose by trying to help, and everything to gain... so let me do this."

Al stood and when Roy looked at him, he had a feeling he was being judged and weighed by both 'the new' and 'the old' Al. Finally, Alphonse walked over to his bed and pulled a thick, leather-bound book from under his pillow and held it out to Roy.

"Take it," he said, not meeting Roy's gaze. "Everything I can tell you is in there..." Roy stepped forward and took the book. He flipped through some of the pages and saw that it was all hand written.

"Your writing?" he asked, and Alphonse nodded. "Thank you..." Roy murmured, then said, "Why are you looking for Ed?"

Alphonse looked down for a moment before saying, shame filling his voice, "I wanted him to suffer the way I suffered. I wanted to cut him off from everyone, and I wanted to see what he was going through because in a way... it made me feel vindicated..."

He looked up and said, his tone changing slightly, "But that wasn't the only reason, you know. I did want to find him to take care of him... I... The part of me that was here the whole time, well, now that my body and soul have reunited again, I know what it was like, and I didn't want Ed to be alone..."

Roy stared at Al as he digested that. Memories of his more recent dealings with Ed flooded through his mind. Memories of how lonely the boy was, his need for affection and closeness... "You took advantage of your brother, didn't you?" His voice was hard and flat.

Al flinched. "I was trying to help..." he said weakly.

"But that wasn't the only reason you did it," Roy pressed. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. Ed was definitely convincing, but they were _brothers_!

"No." A steady, hard answer, yet he could hear the desperate pain in it too.

"You're still lonely..." Roy observed. "You still feel the pain of all those years by yourself, even though you're whole now."

"He wanted it," Al said, as if that made it alright.

Roy frowned and shook his head. "You've been where Ed is now. Do you _really_ think that's what Ed would want if he was in his right mind?"

"He was very persuasive, okay?" Al snapped angrily. "You can't tell me that he didn't proposition you."

"He did," Roy said simply, and when Al looked at him with accusation in his eyes, Roy added, "I refused him each time."

Alphonse stared blankly at him for several moments before sinking wearily to sit on his bed. "You... refused him? But... I thought you said you wanted to help... How could you let him feel so alone when you could have..."

"I don't think that Ed really wants what he says he wants," Roy said, interrupting what Al was saying. "You should understand this."

Al seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, then murmured, "Maybe that's why..."

"Why, what?" Roy asked, when Al said nothing more.

Alphonse frowned, then said, "You should go."

"Answer my question fir—" Roy began, but was cut off.

"There is another reason why I kept Ed here," Al said, then he shivered before saying quietly, "It hunts him. The price has to be paid. Ed knows..." Al stumbled over his words a little. "Maybe it's because you refused him... I don't know, but... he knows you're safe. He knows, in here..." He tapped on his chest above his heart. "...that you really do have his best interests in mind. You're a better man than me..." The last sentence was said so softly that Roy almost didn't hear it.

He opened his mouth, but Al went on. "Because of that, you're hunted too. Didn't you notice? Your office... it was so cold. It's waiting..."

Roy stared at him in disbelief. His office was cold because he was being hunted? His apartment had also been unusually cold lately... the water too... Was that the same as his office...? If so...

"I left Ed at my apartment..." Roy murmured to himself.

"Then go!" Al snapped. "If you're lucky he'll still be there."

Roy gave a stiff nod, turned, and walked toward the door before stopping. He rested his hand on the doorknob, and said, "Knowing isn't enough. If you're ever going to find peace with yourself, you're going to have to let go of the hate."

When Al said nothing, Roy opened the door and said, "You're not alone anymore. You have people here who care about you. I'm sure they want to help, if you'll let them."

Again there was no answer, so Roy walked out of the room and headed quickly to the foyer. After he had slipped on his coat and hat, he turned to see Winry standing near one wall. She gave him a weak smile and said softly, "Thank you..."

He stared at her for a moment. How much of their conversation had she heard? But that didn't matter right now. He could speculate on the train. Right now he needed to get back to Central. Nodding to her, Roy let himself outside and began his trek back to the train station.

* * *

The silver watch gleamed dully from the muted light coming in through the bedroom window. He was holding the watch above him and his eyes followed it as it swung back and forth in his vision. The watch had a name and address scratched into the back—the same name of the person whose apartment he was in at the moment.

He wasn't supposed to leave. At least, that's what the notes said. It was easier to stay here anyway, as he wasn't exactly sure who he was. Maybe this Roy Mustang could help him. Maybe he could tell him who he was and why he was there...

Maybe...

Yet he wanted to leave... It was so cold in the apartment and he felt the need to move on. It was important to not stay in one place for too long. He didn't know why, but he knew it to be true. Each time he made to leave though, he saw the signs telling him that he must stay there until Roy returned.

The watch began to slow above him, but he made no attempt to make it resume its wild swinging.

Roy Mustang.

A name that sounded so familiar, yet so foreign...

He stared at the bottom of the silver pocket watch and wondered idly how long Roy had been gone. How long had he been stuck here alone? It was difficult to remember... Hours? Days? Weeks? Surely it had been no longer than a couple of weeks... But as far as he knew, it could have only been a couple of hours.

Sitting up, he clutched the silver watch in his hand, then held it to his chest as he glanced around. It was scary to be here alone... He moved the watch slightly away from his chest and stared down at it before depressing the button at the top. It opened and he stared at the watch face beneath the glass.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

The small second hand at the bottom of the watch ticked the seconds away, and as it did so, his eyes became unfocused and he was able to see himself slightly reflected in the glass. He felt drawn into his reflection, and it was almost as if he was staring at himself from somewhere else—wondering vaguely what he'd become...

Suddenly, he snapped back to reality and hurled the watch against the wall where it clanged dully, then landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Who was he?! Why did he feel like he wasn't the only one who was staring back at him from the refection in the glass covering the watch hands?

_Who am I?_ he thought desperately, and then something clicked within him and he looked up at the wall on the other side of the room and said softly, "I'm Edward Elric... the Fullmetal Alchemist..." It sounded right and he smiled to himself feeling very pleased. Of course! He was the Fullmetal Alchemist and he had to find a way to restore what he and his brother had lost.

_Brother?_ he thought in confusion. _Alphonse..._ Yes, of course. Alphonse...

Ed frowned and looked around the room. Where _was_ Alphonse anyway? Standing up, Ed walked to the bedroom door, then noticed his watch lying on the floor. _How'd it get there?_ he wondered as he picked it up, closed it, and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Al?" he called as he walked through the small apartment. There were notes everywhere saying to stay in the apartment. What was that all about? Ed shrugged, then picked up one of the papers that was lying on the kitchen counter.

After letting his eyes scan the paper, Ed frowned. This was Roy Mustang's apartment? Why the fuck was he _here_?! The note said something about him being sick, but Ed felt fine, and he didn't remember being sick at all. Crumpling the paper up, Ed tossed it aside, and headed toward the front door.

He had things to do, and if Mustang didn't like it then he could fuck off. Feeling a little sorry that he couldn't tell that to the man himself, Ed left the apartment and firmly closed the door behind him.

* * *

1 – 60.96 cm


	8. Truth

**-**

**Forgotten**

**VIII**

**Truth**

**-  
**Roy sat in his office and idly tapped a pen against the document he was supposed to be filling out, but he couldn't really get himself to focus on it. The office was dimly lit, the sun having set hours ago, and the only light came from a small lamp on his desk. The overhead lights had died days ago, but no matter what new bulbs were put in, they simply would not work. He shivered a little in the heavy coat he was wearing, and shook his head in an effort to clear his mind.

It was no use. He simply couldn't find it within himself to concentrate, but he felt a little better looking as if he were doing something, even if he wasn't. The office was cold—he'd given up trying to get someone to fix the temperature since his meeting with Alphonse—and it was getting late. He was tired, but he had no desire to return to his similarly freezing apartment.

He sighed and, sitting back in his chair, pulled the thick, leather-bound book Alphonse had given him out of his coat pocket and flipped through the pages. He'd read it cover to cover many times—he'd had to, given how disjointed it was—and still Roy felt disbelief at some of the information it contained.

Roy lifted the book so that it caught the faded lamplight, and let his eyes wander over a page before flipping ahead to another. The actual writing had similarities, but one was the scrawl of a child, the other the neat script of an adult. By the information each told, it became obvious that the careful cursive was from the Al he knew, and that the rough scribblings were from the part of Alphonse who'd been left behind—the child.

The tone of the words was also very different. Anger was buried deep in the scribbled words in some places as Alphonse told his short and lonely tale, and sorrow lay behind Al's need to justify why he hadn't tried to help his brother, like he had tried to help him. In a way, the book was almost a journal at some points, but there were parts that were filled with complicated mathematical formulas and complex arrays that had taken Roy quite some time to fully understand.

He sighed, closed the book, and stuffed it back into an inner pocket in his coat. It had been weeks since he'd gone to Rizembool; weeks since he'd come home to find his apartment empty... In that time he'd practically memorized the book, and he'd prepared everything for when Ed finally came back. He _would_ come back, Roy knew this. The frigid temperatures in his office and apartment seemed to confirm it, and he was able to take enough comfort from this knowledge to keep the cold from bothering him too much.

The clock on the wall chimed and he didn't need to see it to know that the time was eight o' clock. Roy had been free to go home at five, but he'd stayed—he stayed late often now—and he'd gotten almost nothing done in the extra three hours.

He yawned and got out of his chair. No point in staying here. Perhaps he'd head down to the Officer's Club and get a drink before heading home. He stretched, then groaned when the already tepid lamplight fizzled out. He felt a slight shiver run through his body and he quickly walked over to the small coat rack in the corner of the room near the door. He had no desire to stay in here with the light gone and was intent on making his exit as quickly as possible. As he was pulling his hat from the rack, the door to his office opened, flooding the room with light; and Lieutenant Hawkeye walked in, carrying a couple of folders.

Roy could see her shiver a little as she wandered over to his desk before glancing through the folders and picking out the papers that were meant for him. She hadn't seen him standing there in the corner behind the door, and he took a moment to study her in the light from the other room.

Her tight hairstyle was starting to show signs of wear after the long day, and by her movements Roy suspected she would be going home soon as well. The lieutenant was a good worker, sometimes almost too good; and, since she had no family, she often stayed late to be sure everything was done on time.

He swallowed, feeling a little depressed. Since the time she'd come to his apartment, Hawkeye had begun to avoid him just as much as everyone else, and when avoidance wasn't possible, she was polite, but very aloof. The thought that she believed the rumors about him hurt, but he supposed that he couldn't blame her. Roy wasn't sure that he would believe he was innocent either...

Yet it still hurt and still made him angry. She'd come to visit him after he'd been released, but he could tell that even then she'd been nervous to be with him. She hadn't said it outright, she wasn't that type of person, but he'd been able to tell in her tone and in her body language.

Roy wanted her to come out and say it—say that she believed he'd raped his subordinate and murdered that prostitute. He wanted _someone_ to say it to his face and not just whisper behind his back, go quiet when he entered the room, or give him looks of nervous fear. After all, his reputation from Ishbal also followed him. Some called him a 'hero' because he'd somehow been able to protect his own men, but those who had been there also knew of the awesome and terrible power he had displayed with the help of the false stone, and just how many people were dead because of him. No... he was no hero... He was a monster...

Stepping over to the door, Roy closed it, making the room dark again. He could hear the gasp from Hawkeye as she quickly turned around, but it wasn't until a few moments later, when his vision became used to the darkness, that he was able to see her.

"Good evening, Lieutenant..." Roy murmured softly.

There was a slight pause before, "Sir... I thought you'd gone home for the night. If I would have known you were still here..." Her voice trailed off, and he walked toward her.

"Then what?" he asked, his voice still maintaining its quiet tone. When he got too close for her liking, she backed up a couple of steps, then stopped when she connected with the desk. He didn't stop, but continued forward until his body was practically touching hers.

"Sir..." she said, her firm voice filled with nervousness. Oh yes, she believed he'd done it. She should know better, but still she believed it...

"Tell me, Lieutenant..." he began in a whisper. Roy could feel her breath on his skin from how close they were, and her breathing was quickening; an indication that she was beginning to panic a little. "If you'd known I was still here, then what?"

Nothing.

"You wouldn't have come in here, would you?" he whispered, and this time it was hard to keep a bit of both the hurt and anger out of his voice. Her gun hand began to move down a little, but he quickly grabbed it and twisted it behind her back. She moved her other hand as if to strike him, but he grabbed it and twisted that one back as well.

"Let go of me," she demanded. If Roy didn't know better, he would believe she was unafraid; but he did know her and he recognized the tone in her voice for what it was.

Instead of doing as she requested, Roy pressed his body even closer against hers and moved his mouth near her ear. "Or what?" he whispered breathily.

She tried to fight against his hold, but when he only tightened his grip on her wrists, she stopped and ground out, "I'll scream."

Roy wasn't worried. There were very few people in the building by this time of night, and the night guards were much too lazy to be of any good—probably in the break room drinking coffee and munching on doughnuts.

"You were going to draw your gun on me. I'm protecting myself," Roy returned quietly. "Why would you draw your gun when I was just talking to you?" Silence. He had the urge to yell at her, to demand why she didn't trust him. Weeks of enduring silent accusations had brought him to this point, and he wanted nothing more than to let out his resentment and frustration. Instead, he murmured, "You think I did it, don't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"No, sir..." she said, the lie obvious in her voice.

"You're lying," Roy said flatly, and moved both of her wrists together so that he could hold them with one hand. He brought his now free hand up and stroked slowly at her hair. It was softer than he'd expected it to be... "You believed I raped her, and you think I murdered that prostitute," he accused tightly.

She said nothing, and this only made him angrier. He gritted his teeth together, trying to hold in the emotions, but failing miserably. "I've never killed anyone outside of my military duties," he breathed furiously. "And I've _never_ raped anyone." He could hear the anguish in his own voice and it made him sick because he didn't want to be seen as weak.

Roy tightened his grip on her wrists, then reached up and gently dragged his fingers of his other hand down her cheek, to her collarbone, then finally to her chest. She thrashed, as he expected she would, when he rubbed his palm over one of her breasts. One of her legs lifted in an effort to knee his groin, but he twisted his body slightly so that her knee caught the side of his thigh. It still hurt, but not quite as much as it would have had she struck her original target. He tightened his grip on her until she stilled. Any further pressure from him and her wrists would snap. They both knew it, but what she didn't know was that he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

"What good does it do me to be innocent, when everyone thinks I'm guilty?" he asked in a cold tone that he almost couldn't believe belonged to him. He couldn't believe what he was doing. It made him sick just to think about it, but he wanted her response. He wanted to make her pay for not believing him; wanted to make her pay for all the others he couldn't get ahold of. Hawkeye tried to struggle again, but stopped when he slid his hand up and clasped it around her throat. A small whimper of pain came from her as he tightened his already fierce hold on her wrists, but that was all.

It was then that his mind went back to Alphonse Elric. The teen had been so full of hate and anger at his brother that he'd wanted to see him suffer like he'd suffered. Wasn't that the same thing as what he was doing now? The realization made his insides churn and he thought he'd be sick. Was he any better than Alphonse?

He stared down into Hawkeye's fierce, yet fear-filled, eyes and knew that he would never be able to hurt her like that—he'd never be able to hurt _anyone_ like that—and at that realization, he fell into a state of complete and utter despair. How could anyone think that of him?! How could he have even supposed for a moment that he could do something like that?!

Roy swallowed, letting go of her wrists and throat, then wrapped his arms around her in a tight and desperate embrace. "I'm sorry..." he whispered in an almost whimper. "I'm so sorry... I could never…"

He waited for her to retaliate in some way, but there was nothing. And, after a moment, he could feel her body shaking beneath his grip, then, instead of going for her gun as he'd expected, she wrapped her arms around him in return and said in a tearful voice, "No... _I'm_ sorry... I..."

"I didn't do it!" he cried, the anguish finally too much for him to handle.

"I know... I know! I'm... I'm so sorry. I should have known, but..." Her apologies were floundered, but it didn't matter. Just the fact that she believed he was innocent—or at the very least _said_ she believed—lifted a great burden from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and one solitary tear escaped each of his eyes, trickling down his cheeks and into her uniform. He wanted to hold onto her longer, but he already felt so weak... He didn't want her to remember him like this...

Pulling away, Roy stared down at her through darkness, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm going away..."

"What?" she said in surprise.

"I'm leaving. Tonight." There was no way he could stay here after what he'd just done. Even though he hadn't gone through with it, Roy still didn't think he would ever be able to face her again.

He could barely discern her eyebrows knitting together and a deep frown pulling at her lips. "But, where will you go?" Hawkeye asked worriedly.

"Somewhere..." Truthfully, he planned on hiding in his apartment for as long as he could. He'd stay there and wait for Ed; and, when he came, Roy would help him. After that... well, perhaps there would be no afterward for him...

"When will you be back?" She was anxious now, he could tell, and he almost lied to spare her the pain, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"Probably never," he said quietly.

"But—" she began, but he cut her off.

"I told you, I could never do any of those things, and I'm tired of having to live with the accusations. I can't handle anymore of this. There's nothing left for me here. Please understand..." She stared at him for a long time before finally nodding.

He moved away from her, then quickly stepped forward again and snatched the picture from his desk; the picture of his staff and of Ed and Al. Stuffing it into the same pocket as the book, Roy turned and walked toward the door. When he opened it, he blinked at the sudden light, then glanced back at Hawkeye one last time. She looked a little shaken, but he was sure it was nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn't take care of.

"Thank you..." he said softly, then without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Ed stalked angrily to the door, looked at the address scratched into his watch, then began to pound on the door. He wanted to know why the hell Mustang's name and address was scratched on _his_ watch. If this was some sort of joke, then it wasn't funny. Ed didn't like people messing with his watch—even Al.

He frowned and glanced up and down the long hallway. Where _was_ Al anyway? Probably doing some kind of research at the library, he supposed. Ed nodded to himself, feeling satisfied. Of course. Where else would Al be? He and Al were always together because they needed to find a way to restore what they'd lost. If Al was somewhere other than that, Ed was sure he would let him know. He probably just didn't want to hear another argument with Mustang.

Ed frowned. It was hard to say just how much leeway they'd made in their search. For some reason he felt a little fuzzy in the head when he tried to think about it. Even thinking back an hour ago seemed too far away. Maybe he was working too hard... Yeah, that must be it. Well, he couldn't let Al know in any case. He'd start worrying and all hell would break loose.

Irritably, Ed pounded on the door again. Fucking Mustang. He'd better answer the damn door, because Ed _knew_ the man was in there! More pounding, then he stopped when he heard a small click and the slide of a chain. Feeling satisfied that he'd gotten a response, Ed folded his arms and waited. The doorknob turned and the door opened slowly, making the hinges creak. When he laid eyes on the man inside, Ed blinked in surprise and frowned deeply. It was Mustang, but...

"You look like shit..." Ed said, feeling a bit of shock. This was not the man he knew. The Roy Mustang Ed knew took extreme care in his appearance. He was meticulous. He was... well, not was he was seeing now... Mustang's clothes were rumpled and disheveled as if he'd been sleeping in them. His black hair, now being taken over by white, was dirty and unkempt. The whites of his eyes were tinted with a light red, and dark circles hung underneath. His face—pale and thin-looking as if he hadn't been eating well—was speckled with hair as if he hadn't bothered to shave for the past couple of days.

"Ed...?" Mustang murmured, looking him up and down as if he wasn't sure he believed what he was seeing.

"Well, duh!" he said, then suddenly remembered why he was here. "Let me in. I have to talk with to you!"

"Of course..." the colonel said quietly, moving aside and opening the door wider. Ed walked in, his boots clunking noisily against the wooden floor, and a strange odor met his nose. It was a slightly nauseating, metallic smell; so familiar, yet he couldn't place it...

He shivered and said, "Fucking _cold_ in here!" He glanced around, but saw almost nothing. "And dark. What the hell is this...?" He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous. "I don't like the cold... Can we turn on a light or something?"

"I have a candle..." Mustang murmured and Ed could hear rustling. "My utilities were shut off a few days ago. I'm running low on funds..." That was said almost so quietly that Ed didn't hear it. He was about to ask about that when he heard a snap from where Mustang was standing and a candle across the room flared to life. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Ed blinked and looked around in the dimly lit, and mostly empty, room. For some reason he supposed that there should be furniture. It wasn't just the fact that such a thing would be normal, but he felt like he'd been here before and _knew_ there should be some. But that was stupid. He'd never been here before in his life.

"Why are you here?" Mustang asked mildly, breaking the silence.

"I..." He blinked. Why _was_ he there...? Ed searched his thoughts and jumbled memories for a moment before he pulled something from the murky depths and said, "My watch." He held it up; the dim light of the candle reflecting off its surface. "I want to know why the hell your name and address are scratched on it."

"That _is_ a good question..." Mustang murmured. "And one I can't answer because _you_ were the one who did it."

_He_ had done it...? Ed moved the watch close to his eyes and inspected it closely. The scratch marks were barely visible in the candlelight.

"Why are you here, Ed...?" Mustang asked again as if Ed's first answer hadn't been good enough.

"I told you!" he snapped, then held the watch out toward Mustang again. "I don't want a watch that has your information on it! I want a new one."

The light from the candle flickered, making the shadows on Mustang's face dance and pulse. It seemed to fit with the calm way the man was speaking to him. "That might be possible," Mustang said, "if you were still in the military."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Ed snapped, feeling confused and slightly angry. "I _am_ in the military! I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist!"

Mustang reached out, grabbed the hand Ed was using to hold the watch, and moved it down. "No..." he whispered. "You're not." Mustang seemed sad and regretful over this, but unmoving as well. "You gave up being Fullmetal years ago." Ed's eyes widened and he shook his head in a sudden, frantic attempt to maintain his grip on reality. "You haven't been the Fullmetal Alchemist for quite some time," Mustang continued quietly. "You no longer have rights to that name, or to this watch."

"But... I..." Ed stammered in disbelief, letting his hand drop. Was Mustang right? He couldn't be, could he? But then, Ed couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to headquarters. He _was_ in the military... and he and Al... they were searching...

No...

He was searching... There was something he had to find... But it wasn't the Stone... No. It was something else. Something more important, but... what was it?

Mustang stepped forward, raised his hand, and gently touched Ed's face, bringing him out of his thoughts, then asked again, "Why are you here? The _real_ reason."

Ed swallowed hard and looked away. He felt empty and defeated; tired and worn. What was wrong with him? He looked down at the watch in his hand and realized that it meant nothing to him. Why was he even holding onto it? What did it mean?

"I'm looking for something..." Ed murmured. _How did I even get here?_ he wondered vaguely. "But... I don't know what it is... I..."

"I know," Mustang said, interrupting him. His hand moved to rest on Ed's shoulder. "I know what you're looking for and I know where you can find it."

Ed lifted his head and stared disbelievingly at Mustang. "You... do?" Hope clawed its way from the pit of his stomach to his heart and squeezed so tightly that it was almost difficult to breathe.

"Yes, I do. I'm going to help you, but... you'll have to trust me..."

Ed dropped the watch and dismissed the clanking sound it made as it hit the wooden floor. "I trust you!" He stepped forward and grabbed onto Mustang's shirt, desperate for what Mustang was promising him. "I trust you! Please... I'll do anything..." It didn't seem to matter that it was _Mustang_ he was begging and making promises too; if he could help... if he could take away the confusion and pain, the loneliness and frustration...

Mustang reached up and held onto Ed's hands for a moment, before prying them gently away. Ed stared up into Mustang's eyes as if he could convey his desperate need with just a look, then he looked down at his hands being held by Mustang's and said quietly, "Anything... I... anything at all..."

He heard Mustang sigh, and looked up in time to see the man move close and give him a tight hug. "Maybe we'll both get what we want in the end..." he whispered, then pulled away just as quickly as he'd moved in. He snapped twice and two other candles flared to life, then he pulled off his gloves and set them down on the floor.

"Take off your coat, shirt, and shoes, and set them there," Mustang said, pointing at where he'd laid the gloves. Ed hesitated as he watched Mustang take off his own shirt. The hug had felt so good... He'd felt so _warm_ and he desperately wanted another one. "Well?" Mustang asked, looking at him. Ed shook his head and quickly did as he'd been told. After dropping the clothing in the pile, he shivered again and resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself. Cold automail did nothing to ward off the chill.

Ed watched as Mustang headed toward the kitchen, then looked into the living area and frowned deeply. Not only was the furniture gone, but so was the carpet... He was _sure_ there was supposed to be carpet, but it had been stripped up and... Something on the floor caught his eye and he walked slowly into the living room, staring down at the wooden floor. There was something large drawn there...

An array.

The array—which seemed so familiar, yet he was sure he'd never seen it before—was incredibly complex; beautiful with its intricate weaving lines and circular plains... and... an odd thing... The lines were dark—black—not white. That meant that chalk hadn't been used to draw it. Yet, there were no paint buckets, and this didn't look like paint in any case...

Kneeling down, Ed inspected the array more closely, then gasped in disbelief. The lines weren't black; they were a deep and crusty red. Blood had been used to draw this array... He stared at it in shock and horror. Why would anyone draw such a large and complicated array in _blood_? Where would someone get so much blood? Ed wasn't sure he wanted to know...

Footsteps sounded behind him and Ed turned to see Mustang standing behind him with a small bowl and a hand towel. He wanted to ask about the array, but before he could, he was told to stand up.

"I'm sorry, this is cold," Mustang murmured apologetically. "I've been storing it in an icebox to keep it... as fresh as possible..." He dipped a finger in the bowl, looked at Ed, then reached out and began to draw on Ed's chest. Ed winced at the cold and at the feel of the slimy liquid on his skin. It felt sticky, and he looked down to see a dark red array being drawn on his chest in paint. Only, it _wasn't_ paint, he realized, feeling the urge to vomit.

His eyes wandered to Roy's arms and what he saw took his breath away. Long, half-healed cuts ran down the inside of Roy's arms. "Is this..." he whispered, almost unable to get himself to ask the question. "Whose blood...? Is it... yours?" No answer was forthcoming however as Mustang continued to draw arrays on him; his chest, forehead, hands, feet...

When he was finished, Mustang inspected him quietly before wiping his hand off with the hand towel and holding the bowl out. "You have to draw the arrays on me," he said simply.

Ed stared mutely at the bowl for a moment, then reached out, took it, and dipped his finger hesitantly into the chilled blood. _Why?_ Ed thought as he began to draw the arrays on Mustang's pale skin. _Why would he do this? Why would he do this for me?_ He tried to think back, tried to remember... something... _anything..._ a reason why, but nothing came to mind. He couldn't possibly have ever done something so great for him...

After finishing the array on Mustang's chest, hands, and feet, Ed looked up, knowing he wasn't tall enough to reach Mustang's forehead. As if he understood what was going on in Ed's mind, Mustang knelt down in front of him so that Ed could more easily reach his forehead.

_Why do I trust you?_ Ed wondered as he drew the array. _What have you done to earn my trust? Why did I come to you? _He stopped as a thought hit him and it was so powerful that he asked it aloud. "What will happen to you when this is over?"

Dark eyes stared silently back at him for a long moment, then Mustang said, "Hopefully, I will be free." Free? What did he mean by free? Ed couldn't understand, couldn't begin to guess, but... But Mustang didn't sound as if it would be a bad thing, yet...

When he was finished, Ed handed the bowl back to Mustang, who simply slid it across the floor, then handed the small towel to Ed so that he could wipe his hand off. Ed did so slowly, never taking his eyes off of Mustang. He wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to have some contact. The memory of the hug still lingered and Ed longed for another one; longed for that warmth and the feeling of not being quite alone...

Before he could initiate anything, Mustang stood up and moved his gaze to stare steadily at the array. Ed looked nervously up at Mustang and was a little relieved to see that he looked unafraid. It made him feel better. Mustang knew what he was doing. He knew what was going on and he wasn't afraid.

"Step onto the array," Mustang instructed softly.

Ed tossed the towel aside; then, looking at the array, he took a deep breath and stepped forward. In the instant his foot touched the ground, the array on the floor and those on his body on his body, lit up. He'd begun the process of activating it and it was ready to be used.

But this knowledge passed unnoticed by Ed because at that moment he knew nothing, felt nothing, was nothing... He was blank. Everything was empty. The past, present, and future were nothing because he didn't have those.

He walked to the center of the circle, and looked at the man beyond the light. "Are you ready?" he asked in a hollow voice. He wasn't sure why he'd asked, but it seemed right, and the man nodded slowly in affirmation.

* * *

Roy watched as Ed began the activation of the array and the room was suddenly bathed in a deep red glow. His eyes were fixed on the sight—entranced by it. Ed's automail reflected the red glow, but it also caught the light blue glow from the arrays on his body. Roy looked down at the arrays on his own skin and noticed that they, too, were emitting a light blue glow. But he'd expected that. Al had made careful notes about what had happened when he and Ed had done this.

Yet, even those notes had been missing some important aspects, one of which was how they'd felt at the time. Had they been afraid? Of course, there was no way of knowing how Ed had felt; but, in the book, Al hadn't indicated any feelings of fear. In fact, he'd mentioned feeling a little empty and hollow...

"Are you ready?" Ed asked in almost an uninterested voice.

Roy nodded. Yes, he was ready. He was ready to do this—ready to leave this existence behind. There was absolutely nothing left for him here; yet, there was everything here for Ed. He was doing the right thing. They'd both benefit from this.

He stepped forward and, when his foot connected with the array, alarm filled him. It was sharp and painful, and Roy almost felt as if he couldn't breathe. He took another step and nearly fell to his knees. Just a moment before he'd felt no fear; and yet, now, a dreadful terror was raging through his body.

_I must do this_, Roy thought. He'd already come so far; he wouldn't turn back now. He took another step, and then another. Panic gripped him as he neared the center of the array where Ed stood calmly looking at him.

Roy stopped when he neared Ed and asked, "Are you ready?" His question echoed loudly in his ears and Roy almost wanted to curl up and cover his head with his hands. Instead of answering the question verbally, Ed raised his hands with palms out and waited calmly. Swallowing hard, Roy raised his own hands—shaking with unrestrained terror—and pressed them against Ed's.

The array became fully active and blindingly bright light flared up around them. He felt as if he were being torn apart and put back together all at the same time, and he yelled with fear and pain.

Then there was nothing but yellow. All around him was yellow. A light, almost white, ethereal yellow void... And that yellowish-white void held a coldness that was deep and heavy—something that seeped into his very being and sapped the strength from his body.

"Colonel?" a voice asked in calm surprise. The voice grabbed at him—pulled at his soul. He knew this voice and he was relieved that there was none of that painful longing and confusion that he'd become accustomed to hearing. Turning his head slightly, he saw Edward Elric standing a few paces in front of him; looking a little insubstantial, as if he wasn't exactly _real_. Ed's eyes—pale and ghostly—radiated knowledge and also a slight tinge of happiness, but that emotion didn't mingle with the look of interest and curiosity that his face held.

With an effort, Roy tore his gaze away from Ed long enough to take in his surroundings. A large, black, two-doored gate stood near and its ominous presence sent a chill through Roy's spine. He'd known to expect it, known it from the book Alphonse had given him, but to actually _see_ it was terrifying. The urge to shrink away from the menacing gate was strong and it took everything he had within him to stay where he was.

He tore his eyes away from the gate, turning a little more, and saw Edward Elric again; though this time it was the tattered-looking, shirtless teen who had been in his apartment only moments before. His eyes were slightly blank, only vaguely taking in what was going on. Roy looked from one to the other for a moment, then gave a small sigh of relief.

It had worked... Or at least, everything _seemed_ to be going as planned thus far.

Moving close to the Ed he'd brought with him, Roy said, motioning to the ghostly-looking Ed before them, "This... is what—_who_—you were looking for..." Ed stared fixedly at his pale double and tears gathered in his eyes, but he did and said nothing; simply stared.

"Why are you here?" the other Ed asked quietly. "Why have you come to this place?"

Roy turned and watched the other Ed walk near. All the intelligence, all the personality, all the _everything_ that made Ed who he was shone brightly in those insubstantial eyes. This was Ed. This was his soul. It was his very being.

"I'm here to help," Roy said simply.

"You don't know what you're doing," Ed answered, looking concerned. "I told Al—"

"I'm not your brother," Roy said, cutting him off.

Ed opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head with a small smile. "Don't misunderstand, I... I'm happy to finally see _someone _again, and I'm... touched... by your effort, but I can't let you do this..."

"Do you really think you can stop me from doing what I want?" Roy countered stubbornly. There was no way Ed was going to talk him out of this. This had been his decision. He'd known what the risks were, but he was desperate for something else. He wanted to get away from his life, and this gave him the opportunity. He would not let Ed deny him this.

"They say that exchange is equivalent, but you know, it never is; at least, not here. Fairness doesn't exist in this place." Ed glanced at the gate, and Roy thought he looked a little bitter and angry. "The concept is a foreign thing; and, in the end, you'll end up worse off than before."

"Ed..." Roy began, then trailed off when Ed looked back at him. Pain filled his eyes as he gazed steadily at him.

"There is no 'fixing things', Mustang. There is no restoration or returning life to how it was. Such things are the dreams of children who know no better. But we know... we know that it's impossible... We can only pay for our sins and hope that the ones we harmed will forgive us..." Ed's gaze dropped to his feet as his words trailed off.

Roy was silent for a moment as the weight of Ed's words rested on him. He knew much about sin and hoping others would forgive him... Finally, he said quietly, "Do you really think Alphonse will be able to forgive you if you can't forgive yourself?"

Ed's head snapped up and he stared at him with a look of shock and undisguised horror. "How—" he began.

"Ed... there is too much hurt to go around—too much pain." Roy knew plenty about pain as well. "You hate yourself for what you've done to Alphonse. You hate yourself because his soul was stuck in that armor for all those years, then you hate yourself even more when you realize that part of your brother was still here—languishing in a hell that he didn't deserve." Roy knew much about self-hatred too...

Ed's face contorted into a look of pain, but Roy didn't stop. He wanted Ed to realize that he was wrong, that even if he couldn't put everything back to how it was, he _could_ make things right with his brother and with himself. He, at least, had something to live for. Ed had a chance of having a good life.

"If you thought that by staying here, and living through what he did, would make things better—would make them _equal_—you were wrong. Your brother is _still_ hurting. The half of him that was stuck here hates you bitterly, yet at the same time he _wants_ to forgive you. While the half who journeyed with you all those years, misses you and hates himself for not finding a way to get you back." Roy sighed and shook his head. "You need to go to him. He needs to forgive you..." He paused, studying Ed's face for a moment, then continued quietly. "And you need to forgive yourself."

Swallowing hard, Ed looked away for a time. He seemed to be considering Roy's words. His lips pressed together tightly and his eyes crinkled in pain. Then Ed rubbed his eyes before finally saying quietly, "What about you..."

"What about me?"

"You'll..." Ed's voice cracked. "You'll be destroyed. You..."

Roy shook his head. There were worse fates than being destroyed. He was ready for anything, though hopefully what awaited him would be death. If not, well... "I have nothing to lose. Everything that mattered has already been taken from me, and the one thing I have left can never be taken from me."

"And... what is that?" Ed asked.

"My sense of being... If I survive whatever happens here, people will still see me and remember who I used to be—even if I'm no longer that way. If I die, they will remember me for who I was. I'll leave a legacy... That's something that can't be taken away."

Ed looked at him searchingly for a moment, then glanced over at the Ed Roy had brought with him. "My body... It's been a long time since I've been able to touch anything, or... It's been so lonely here... so cold... You must be able to feel it, the cold..." Ed looked down and wrapped his arms around himself. "It's the only thing I've been able to feel this whole time. It's as if the cold lies on more than one plane of existence..." His voice trailed off and he took a step forward before glancing at Roy with a look of longing. "Is this really alright?"

Roy nodded and stepped aside for Ed to move close to his body. For a moment Ed did nothing; then, hesitantly, each reached out and the two connected. Ed's soul quivered for a moment, then disappeared. The light and intelligence in the physical Ed's eyes seemed to come back; and, for a moment, shock and horror played out across the features as if he were witnessing something dreadful that he couldn't stop. Then Ed crumbled to his knees and put his hands to his head with a loud yell.

"No!" Ed screamed in pain, shaking his head as if that would make everything alright. His teeth clenched and tears welled up in his eyes. Roy stepped close, knelt, and wrapped his arm around Ed's shoulders as he started to cry. "It hurts..." Ed moaned. "The memories... What I... this body did... without me... what I... that part of me... oh my... someone help me..." His anguish descended into unintelligible moans and whimpers as he begged for relief.

Holding tightly to Ed, Roy said, "Go to Al. Find him. I can't help you anymore, but he will. I'm sure of it."

Ed looked up at him in shocked disbelief. With tears streaming down his face, Ed said, "You... you helped me... You didn't have to... You refused... I..."

Roy gave Ed a sad and understanding smile, then tightened his hold on him for a moment before letting go and standing up. Staring silently down at Ed for a moment, Roy wondered if Ed would really be okay. It was a slight prick of doubt that made him wonder if he was really doing the right thing, or if he had only deluded himself into thinking that for his own selfish reasons.

But if so, it was too late now. Ed's body and soul were whole and he was strong. He'd be okay. Both he and his brother would be okay... They would work out their problems. Turning his gaze from Ed, Roy looked up at the ominous gate. With a deep breath, Roy said loudly, "I'm here to retrieve Edward Elric. Send him back to where he belongs!"

"_Edward Elric belongs to me..." _The words felt as though they were carried on a breeze, but there was no breeze and he didn't actually here them. He _felt _them inside.

"Send him back where he belongs and you can have whatever you want from me! I will pay the full price that is owed by the Elric brothers!" he shouted.

"No!" Ed shouted, grabbing at Roy's pants. "You can't! I won't let you!"

"_Much is owed..." _

"It doesn't matter," Roy said resolutely.

"No!" Ed said again. "No! This is _my _price!"

"_It shall be done..." _

"Wait!" Roy heard Ed cry, but when he turned to look at him, Ed was already fading away. His face was haggard and tormented, and tears were trickling down his cheeks as he shook his head.

"Good-bye, Ed..." Roy whispered sadly. He hoped Ed would understand that this had been Roy's choice. He hoped that Ed wouldn't feel any guilt or remorse over it. He had been given a chance to give something back, to make his death—as he hoped it would be—mean something.

When he was alone, Roy swallowed hard, feeling slightly nervous now that the moment had come, then looked at the gate. "Well?" he asked, feeling both eager and nervous. "What great and horrible punishment do you have for me?" A sudden prick of fear struck him as he wondered if those within the gate would decide that the worst thing would be to send him back to the shit hole of a life he'd just left. "You heard what I said to Ed!" he yelled. "I have _nothing_ to lose! There is nothing you can take from me that will make any difference!"

His voice seemed to echo around him, and then there was a moment of silence as if whoever or whatever lay beyond was contemplating his fate. Finally, the gates slowly opened to reveal a dark mass beyond. Eyes stared out at him and terror overwhelmed him. He felt the urge to turn and run way, but instead he stood his ground and waited. This was what he wanted, after all.

Dark tendrils slid out from the inky blackness and surrounded his body. His skin began to tingle, then burn horribly. It seemed as if his whole body was being crushed and he screamed from the blinding pain. Memories flew through his mind, making sense for only a moment before they seemed to belong to someone else. His brain seared with a freezing pain and he reached up to clutch at his head.

And then, mercifully, there was nothing.

* * *

Roy opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. He blinked a few times and was able to clear his vision enough to see that he was staring up at a ceiling. He was in a dim room and the air had a slight metallic smell that made his stomach churn in disgust. He turned his head to one side and saw an almost burned out candle playing its part to light the room.

He sighed in contentment as he stared into the flame. The flickering was comforting and it lulled him into a slight hypnotic state, yet he broke out of it when he realized someone else was in the room. He turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, and this time a face came into his line of vision.

It was a boy with long, blond hair... His golden eyes were tinged with red as if he'd been crying for a long time, and his face looked worn and haggard. Concern and wonder filled the boy's eyes, then he whispered in disbelief, "You're alive... I don't believe it... but... it's _you,_ isn't it...?"

Roy frowned. What was this boy talking about? He blinked again, feeling tired; then he shivered as he realized it was a little chilly in the room. The boy's face left his vision and was soon back, accompanied by him lying something over Roy's body.

"That should keep you warm..." the boy murmured. "I don't think we'll have to worry about the cold following us anymore. It's already warmed up since I came back."

Roy pulled the stiff blue fabric up close to his chin, thinking that such a thought was stupid. Cold didn't follow a person... did it? He stared up at the boy and studied his face. Who was this? He seemed nice, but... The boy seemed to understand what he was thinking because he said, "You don't know who I am, do you...?" Roy shook his head, not wanting to talk to someone he didn't know.

"Do you know who you are?" the boy asked a little nervously. Roy nodded. What a dumb question. Of course he knew who he was... He was Roy. He yawned and blinked tiredly. "You're safe with me..." the boy whispered, then reached out and brushed his fingers through Roy's hair.

"I'm going to protect you. I'm going to help you and take care of you..." A tear escaped one of the boy's eyes and Roy suddenly felt sorry for him. He didn't like seeing people be sad... "You were the only one who didn't take advantage of me... I can never pay you back for that and for all you've done for me, but I'll try."

Roy yawned again. He was very tired and the boy wasn't interesting enough to keep him from starting to nod off. "Go to sleep. I'll watch over you," the boy whispered with a small smile. Roy blinked a couple of times, then yawned again before letting his eyes close completely. He was tired and it took only a moment for him to fall asleep.

* * *

One more chapter. Thank you for reading thus far. I'll have the last part up sometime soon. :)


	9. Forgiveness

**-**

**Forgotten**

**Epilogue**

**Forgiveness**

**-  
**Al stared blankly ahead to where Winry was working on her newest project. The window was open and he could hear the birds chirping outside as they enjoyed the warm spring air. He could smell the grass and stream beyond that; and, for a moment, Alphonse wanted to go outside and do something. Maybe take a walk, or play on the tree swing.

_How stupid_... he thought to himself. He was an adult now and such things were looked down on. But he didn't _feel_ like an adult; not inside. Al remembered 'growing up' mentally as he journeyed with his brother, but Alphonse didn't remember such things at all. He felt at a complete loss as to what he should do or how he should act. He'd suddenly been thrust into this world of adulthood and he couldn't help feeling angry and confused.

He sighed. Maybe not so angry anymore... at least, not with Ed. He'd had quite a few months to think over what Colonel Mustang had said. It had been difficult to let go of the hate—both for himself and for Ed—because when he did, there was only pain left. He felt weak admitting that he was hurt because there was nothing to protect him from the pain.

But it had helped. And with that, and the help of Winry and Pinako, life had become better after a while. The more mature Al and the younger and more pain ridden Alphonse had been able to come to some sort of emotional understanding. He didn't feel like he was torn in two anymore...

Winry looked up at him and a small smile touched her lips, and he smiled back before she turned her attention back to her work.

Life had gotten better after he'd been able to find balance, yet he still felt sad. If only there was a way he could see Ed again. If only they could talk.

Colonel Mustang had said he was going to try to help Ed, but there had been no word from him in months. In fact, _no one_ knew where Roy Mustang was. The police were looking for him and had declared him a wanted criminal, and the military was searching for him on the grounds of desertion. Al hadn't thought they could accuse such a thing if the country wasn't at war, but who understood the military anyway? Al had an idea that they just didn't like losing one of their most talented alchemists, and perhaps they were afraid he would join with another country to fight against Amestris.

But it was all speculation in Al's mind. He really didn't know, and he doubted he'd ever find out. He was just disappointed that nothing had ever come of him helping Ed like he'd said he would... Or... maybe he _had_ tried to help Ed and something had gone wrong... That thought made him feel even worse.

His attention was pulled away from Winry, the window, and his thoughts when he heard a knock at the front door.

"I'll get it," Winry offered, moving to put her screwdriver down, but he was already on his feet and he waved a hand at her.

"You work. I'll get it."

She shrugged and turned her attention back to the automail. He took one last moment to observe her. They hadn't been on very good terms before Colonel Mustang had paid them a visit. Looking back, it wasn't hard to see why. He'd been so angry and aggressive, and prone to quick attitude changes, that the thought of it even made _him_ unnerved.

With a small smile at Winry that she didn't see, he left her to her work and walked to the door. As he pulled it open, nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting for him.

"Hi..." Ed said quietly from the other side of the screen door. And it _was_ Ed. It was his brother, not just the shell he had been, but the _real_ and _whole_ person.

His chest felt tight and he blinked several times as if to affirm that he wasn't just seeing things. "Brother...?" Al breathed, not daring to believe what his eyes told him was true. His heart beat wildly in his chest from nervousness, and he felt sweat begin to prickle at his forehead.

Ed nodded, then glanced away for a moment before looking back and saying, "I'm not here for long. I just... I wanted..." He sounded almost afraid now and Al instantly felt ashamed. He'd done so many bad things to Ed... He'd been wrong, he'd...

"Brother... I... I've changed... I'm not..." Al stumbled over his words. How could he explain what he had a hard time understanding himself? He was ashamed of how he'd behaved and was afraid that Ed would hate him.

"I know. I can see it in your eyes," Ed murmured. His voice was full of compassion and understanding.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two, then Al asked nervously, "Do you want to come inside?"

Ed stared at him for a moment in consideration, then shook his head. "No. I..." His tone was regretful now. "I don't want to stay long and I don't really want to talk to anyone else. Not now. Maybe another time..."

"Then I'll come outside," Al said, understanding that if Winry laid eyes on Ed, she would insist on him staying for a while. And while that was exactly what Al wanted, he'd had his fill of forcing Ed to do things he didn't want to. Letting himself outside, Al got his first really good look at his brother.

Ed was dressed in worn traveling clothes—dark brown slacks; a dusky-looking, long-sleeved shirt that must have been white at one time; white gloves to hide the automail; and his hair gathered at the base of his neck the style their father had worn. A suitcase was sitting at his feet, and Al suddenly had a vision of his brother during the times they'd traveled together.

"You've become a traveler?" Al asked, eyeing him. He had the sudden desire to leave Rizembool and go with Ed. Travel and just be them. He wanted the closeness with Ed that he'd had before they'd tried to get their mother back, or even when they'd traveled around the country to search for the Philosopher's Stone.

"I suppose you could say that," Ed said with a small smile. His voice, eyes, and body language all screamed how much Ed had matured. Al wanted to step forward and embrace him, but he felt dirty and undeserving. Self-hate filled him and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to run away and hide.

"Al..." Ed said quietly, reaching out and setting a hand on Al's shoulder. "Don't look at me like that..."

"But I..." he said, his voice full of emotion. How could he explain? How could he make Ed understand?

Ed shook his head, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around Al. "I didn't come back right away because I had a lot to think about. I... I still have a hard time forgiving myself, but... maybe if you forgive me, then I'll be able to forgive me too..."

"Brother!" Al cried, hugging him back tightly. "It's _me_ who should ask _you _for forgiveness!"

Ed moved back a little so that he could stare into Al's eyes and whispered harshly, "I was angry at first... when I realized—_really_ realized—what you had done. I felt so... _betrayed_... but... I understand that even though part of you wanted to hurt me, part of you also wanted to help..." He gave Al a small, rueful smile. "I read the book you gave Mustang and he also left me a long letter." Ed took a deep breath. "So yes, I forgive you... I do." He blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back the tears that wanted to accompany the strong emotion coming from him. "Do you... can you...?" The words were choked out and Al could hear the fear in them—the same fear he'd felt.

And, at that moment, all the anger, hate, worry, and pain was released and the younger Alphonse seemed to take over in that moment. He pulled Ed close and exclaimed, "Yes! Yes, brother! I forgive you! I'm sorry I was so mad! I was just hurt and lonely! I know you'd never leave me alone like that!"

They stood together for a long time, each holding the other. Tears of sorrow, pain, relief, and happiness mingled with smiles and slight touches of laughter. They'd been through so much, they'd made so many mistakes, they'd done so much that was wrong that it was hard to believe that anything could ever be right again. But, in that moment, everything was right and the future held so much promise for both of them.

The moment seemed to last forever, and yet not long enough, then it was over as heavy clunking footsteps sounded up the stairs to the porch. Al pulled away and looked over to see a small boy of about four or five looking at them with bewilderment on his face. His short, and very fine, black hair moved a little in the slight breeze, and his large black eyes studied them intensely before holding up his hands—which were held together and covered in mud—and saying in a matter-of-fact tone, "I found a frog."

He opened his hands and a muddy clump 'ribbited' and jumped out of his grip and onto the porch. His eyes widened and his mouth made a large 'O', then he yelped, "It got away!" and scrambled after it.

"Let it go..." Ed said dryly, eyeing the boy and looking none too pleased with how much mud was covering his shoes, pants, and hands. "Didn't I tell you to stay on the step?"

The boy looked at him quizzically for a moment, then his delicate black eyebrows raised as remembrance filled his face. Al noticed a slight shrewdness fill the boy's eyes—something that would only lead to greater cunning in future years as he matured—before he hurried over to Ed and hugged his leg; looking up at with a brilliant smile on his face.

"I love you, teacher!" the boy exclaimed. No matter how true that might have been, Al recognized the manipulative attempt to get out of trouble for what it was.

Ed looked down and said flatly, "You're still in trouble." When the boy realized he wasn't going to get the desired response, he stuck out his bottom lip, moved over to the steps, and sat heavily with his back turned to them and his arms folded.

Al might have laughed at the whole exchange if he didn't feel so dazed. He glanced up at Ed with wide eyes and said, "Is that...? It looks just like..." He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts, then said, "But it can't be... right?"

Ed looked over at the boy and said quietly, "He was wrong, Al... They _were_ able to take something from him. Even if he ever got his memories back, he could never be who he used to be. His age alone marked him for who he was. In twenty or thirty years, no one will look at him and know his identity. He hasn't been confirmed dead, so he has no legacy to leave behind because the history books haven't closed on him yet."

He shook his head almost in disbelief. "In taking away what he truly believed couldn't be taken—the one thing left that really mattered to him—they also gave him something in return." A small smile touched his face. "Another chance..." Ed glanced at Al and he could see the look of determination in his eyes. "I'm going to teach him. I'll teach him alchemy and I'll teach him to fight. I'm going to give him a new life, and maybe this time he can be happy." Another glance at the boy, then back to Al. "It's the least I can do."

Al swallowed and nodded. He understood. Roy Mustang had done a lot for the two of them. If it hadn't been for him, Ed might have never been able to join the military or even thought of the idea. Roy Mustang had made things happen for them while they were searching, and he had been willing to help them out of the mess he and Ed had created for themselves. He had given them another chance... Was it possible that fate had decided the colonel deserved another chance as well—some sort of gift for his selflessness?

Maybe...

But Al wasn't one to believe in chance.

"I have to go," Ed said finally. "We try to keep on the move."

"Will you come back; to visit, I mean?" Al asked.

A small smile played out on Ed's face. "Yeah. Sometime. But not now." Ed picked up his suitcase and said, "Tell Winry and Pinako..." He trailed off for a moment, then said, "Tell them that I said 'hi'."

Al nodded and watched as Ed walked over to the boy and nudged him with his foot. "Alright, brat. Time to go."

All previous pouting forgotten, the boy practically bounced to his feet and bounded down the steps where he waited impatiently for Ed to join him. Ed stopped at the bottom and gave Al one last look—one that said he wouldn't disappear, but would keep in touch—before taking the child's hand with his free one and starting away down the dusty road.

-**end**-

**A/N:** I'm both excited and sad to see this story all posted. I worked so long on it. There were times I would pour over this story, sometimes over one little part for hours, and then other times I just left it alone for months.

I know not all your questions are answered, but sometimes I think it's better to leave room for the imagination.

When I started this story, I had an idea for another story that I would like to write after this one. It wouldn't be a suspense like this one and really one wouldn't need to have read this story to 'get' the next story since I would touch lightly on why Roy was younger than Ed and all of that.

I've ho-hummed about it here and there. The story would be cute and fun to write, but that was almost 3 years ago and I have since acquired many projects that I would like to finish (and that I know others would really like me to finish). There is always the possibility that such a story or 'continuation' might be forthcoming, but it's very low on my list at this time in my life.

But yes, I am sad to see it all posted because that means that this story really has reached an end, but I'm also happy because I was able to share it with those of you who have decided to read it.

I'd like to give a huge thank-you to my very awesome beta, Masamune Reforged. I couldn't ask for a better beta then him.

I'd also like to thank you all for reading and letting me share this story with you. I hope you've enjoyed the journey.


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